This Unfamiliar Road
by DSBJellyDonuts
Summary: What if Rumplestiltskin was able to subvert the curse… for a price? In exchange, he could have the power to arrange the marriage of Princess Emma and get his son back all in one fell swoop. And if he happened to decide his own son is the one the princess should marry, then all the better. The only question remaining is this: Could this marriage of convenience become something more?
1. Chapter 1

**This Unfamiliar Road**

**Chapter 1**

A knock at the door alerted Bae to his father's presence. Grimacing, he answered - "Yes, Papa?"

"Baelfire!" The Dark One swept into the room, commanding attention in a way he reserved solely for those times when he had convinced himself that he had discovered the key to regaining his son's affections. Despite these convictions, he had yet to succeed in doing so, and the four years since Bae's return had been fraught with tension between the two.

After spending countless years barely surviving in a cave on the shores of Neverland, Bae had one day been plucked up out of his life - if you could call such an existence a life - by the one fairy he'd counted as a friend. Without word and without explanation, she had carried him through a portal and back to the Enchanted Forest, a place he'd hoped never to see again. Unceremoniously, she deposited him on the doorstep of the very man he'd spent centuries dreaming of - at first with the fervent hope that he would come to his rescue, then later in his nightmares, over and over, as he released Bae's hand while clinging to the dagger. Clinging to the dagger, clinging to his power, to his greed and his gold and all of the things that mattered more to him than his own son's well-being. As far as Bae was concerned, his father was gone, replaced by this monster who somehow thought he could win the affections of the boy who had once adored his Papa.

"Yes, Papa?" Bae asked again, eyes rising to meet the former spinner.

"Pack your things! Tomorrow we shall leave on our journey," he cackled, exuding an attitude indicative of the fact that he felt Baelfire should accept this as a great gift.

"What journey?" Bae questioned, dread rising as he considered the possibilities. He shifted in his chair to fully face his father, never dropping his gaze, willing himself to breathe in the midst of the storm that was sure to arise from the answer.

"The journey to retrieve your bride, of course."

Bae was silent, staring at his father for a moment. "I have no bride, Papa," he replied flatly.

"Which is precisely why we are going to retrieve one for you," the Dark One said, giggling at a joke that was evident only to him.

Bae's stunned silence returned, and in his shock it took a few moments for him to regain his power of speech. "What have you done, Papa," he replied anxiously, more an accusation than a question, as he was certain that he did not really want to know the answer.

"You hide in your room for days on end. You refuse to associate with me, in fact you refuse to associate with anyone... it is high time you have a companion. I was promised a young woman in a deal some time ago, and it has come time to collect."

"You arranged to acquire me a wife _in a deal_?" Bae said, jumping to his feet. "Papa, I cannot - I _will_ not!"

"Suit yourself, dearie, but you know what happens to those who break deals," came the flippant reply.

"You can do whatever you like to me," he replied impertinently, "I won't go along with this scheme."

"Ah, but you're not the one who made the deal, now are you? If the marriage falls through, then the deal will be broken, and those who made the deal will be the ones to pay the price."

Bae closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a breath and steeling himself for the answer to the question he'd not yet asked. "Who made the deal, pray tell?"

"Why her parents, of course."

"Papa, you cannot kill them!" he exclaimed, voice rising again. "They are innocents!"

"Ah, but if the deal is broken, someone must pay the price, Bae. That's how it works - and it will most certainly not be you."

Baelfire took a step towards him, lifting his head and pulling his shoulders back as he took a stance against the Dark One. "You must stop meddling in my life, Papa! First you arranged to have me brought back from Neverland and deposited into your clutches… only to spend four years controlling my every move. Now you're requiring me to marry or have this family's blood on my hands?!" He was irate now, utterly incredulous at the lengths to which this _monster_ would go to in order to win his affection. Bae found it troubling enough when his own life was decimated by actions that were apparently meant to protect him, but dragging other people - innocent people, who had nothing to do with the situation - into the mess was utterly unconscionable.

"Tinkerbell assisted with your return at great benefit to herself. As for this family," he said with an indifferent shrug, "they sealed their own fates when they chose to make this deal. Likewise, it is your choice whether to assist them in upholding it or not."

Bae heaved an angry sigh. "Papa, perhaps we can go speak with them, modify the bargain somehow. I cannot - I _will not_ \- have their blood on my hands. We need to find a way around this situation."

"There is no 'way around it,'" he sneered, "They must uphold their end. My portion of the bargain was delivered long ago, and in exchange I was promised the choice of their daughter's suitor."

Bae, catching the loophole in his father's statement, leapt at the possibility of altering his father's thinking. "Cannot she marry someone else? If the choice is yours, why must you choose me?!"

"I can think of no young man more deserving than my own son! You are in need of companionship and this marriage will do the trick nicely. The deal is set and it _will_ be fulfilled - or the family will pay the price." He was in Bae's space now, uncomfortably close and frighteningly intense.

Bae refused to back down under his glare, despite knowing that he was in an unwinnable battle. Locking his brown eyes with ones that bore no resemblance to those of the father he so adored, he spat an answer at the monster that wore his father's face. "If it is a marriage your require to spare their lives, a marriage there shall be."

"Very well, then," his father replied as he turned to leave, clearly pleased with himself and calming as quickly as he had spiraled up. "We leave at first light."

"Papa?" Bae called after him, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to speak evenly. His father paused in his exit, waiting for the question that was sure to follow. "Who, pray tell, have you arranged for me to marry?"

The Dark One turned back to Bae and a small smile threatened at the corner of his mouth as he replied. "A young woman about your age from the northern kingdom. I believe her name is... Emma."

"Emma? Surely you cannot mean _Princess_ Emma," Bae replied, incredulous once again.

"Yes, that's her," his father confirmed airily as he resumed his exit. "This agreement was to save her from a fate far more heinous. It shall be a favorable arrangement for both of you."

"Being forced into a marriage shall not be favorable for anyone!" Bae yelled after him, the battle with his temper forgotten in his shock, but the only response was the resounding closure of the solid wood door.

* * *

_18 years prior..._

Snow White paced back and forth across the ornate rug that lay at the foot of her bed. Her husband, Prince Charming, sat perched on the edge of a nearby chair, leaning forwards as he was engaged by his wife in conversation.

"I think we have to do it, Charming," she implored.

"We cannot let that man control her destiny," he replied, desperation evident in his voice.

"He _already_ controls her destiny," she said, subconsciously placing a protective hand over her midsection. "He will allow this curse to be cast, and she will be alone until she is an adult. Utterly alone, he said - no family, no friends, no love."

"But you'll be with her," Charming said, rising to his feet and moving to where his wife was pacing. Their plan wasn't what he would have chosen for their life, but it was a plan that would keep his wife and child safe, and in the end, that was all that mattered. He placed both hands on her upper arms and gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze, halting her pacing and commanding her attention. "She won't be alone."

Snow shook her head, slowly, sadly, as she moved to meet his gaze. "The imp said she'd be alone."

"He lies!" he exclaimed, unable to wrap his mind around using the word of the Dark One to make such a decision about the path of his child's life.

"Charming," she said softly, "Rumplestiltskin is many things, but a liar is not one of them."

"But you're to go - you're to go with her in the wardrobe," he argued. "That's the plan!"

"He can see the future," Snow replied. "Something must happen to change the plan. If he says she'll go alone, we have no reason not to trust him."

"We have _every_ reason not to trust him," the prince stated firmly.

Snow shook her head sadly. "Not in this we don't. We've had many dealings with him before, and although his motivations are always murky, not once has he lied to us. Given all of our options... we need to agree to his deal."

The prince dropped her arms, shoulders slumping in defeat. "She should be free to marry whomever she wants. Our daughter is born of true love - she should have the opportunity to find a love of her own."

"And perhaps she yet shall. You know how that imp twists things, changes deals - look how he did so with Ella, agreeing to give her back Thomas and let her keep the baby in exchange for a simple trinket."

"You don't think he'll follow through on the arrangement of her marriage?"

She sighed. "I think that even if he does, she'll have had eighteen years of love and a solid upbringing to prepare her for that life. Those marriages often blossom into something more... my parents' did."

Charming frowned. "Nonetheless, I don't like it."

"Nor do I, dear Charming, but if the alternative is twenty eight years alone..." She took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. "We have to give her her best chance, David. I have to believe that _we_ are her best chance. Not some life alone in a far-off land."

Her husband nodded, slowly and resolutely, and sunk back into his chair, resigned in the decision. "He needs to be a good man," he stated plainly, and Snow tilted her head to the side as she questioned him.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

David let out a bitter laugh. "I think the time for that has long passed. But Emma's suitor... whomever he chooses for her... we need to stipulate that he be a good man. I won't have my daughter married off to someone who will do her harm."

Snow's head bobbed in agreement. "So we agree, then? If Rumplestiltskin can subvert the curse, can keep Emma safe and in our care, then we will consent to his arrangement of Emma's marriage."

The prince met her gaze solemnly, no hint of a smile to be seen. "Yes, Snow. We agree."

* * *

_Present day..._

"No, Colleen. Thank you, but I don't think I like that one either," Emma said to the handmaiden who was standing in her bedchamber, holding out the sixteenth dress in a row for the princess' inspection.

"Princess Emma, this is the last of the dresses in the wardrobe."

"Oh," she replied, frowning slightly. "What about the dark green one?"

"That was made for a ball several seasons ago. You've grown three inches since then, so your mother instructed that we be rid of it."

"Hmm," Emma replied. "And there is no possibility to make another gown before the ball?"

"I could ask the seamstress, but with less than a week to go, I find it doubtful that she would finish it to your satisfaction."

"Hmm," she replied again. "The navy might be an option then. Why don't you grab that one and-"

"The sea foam?"

"No, Mama hates the sea foam," Emma said, shaking her head.

"The color is lovely dear," her mother affirmed as she breezed into the room, "but the cut does not flatter you about the waist. And we wouldn't want to start any rumors, particularly at this ball of Alexandra's," she said with a laugh.

The ball in question was to be this weekend, thrown by King Thomas and Queen Ella, to announce the impending arrival of an heir for Emma's dear friend Alexandra. The neighboring kingdom allowed marriages at the sixteenth birthday, and though it baffled Emma, Alex had been so moon-eyed over Abigail and Frederick's son James that they'd been united mere weeks after she came of age. It was a beneficial union for both kingdoms, Emma understood, but nonetheless it left her thankful that her own parents had not yet pushed her towards finding a suitor. They too had married young, she knew, but even waiting a few years into their twenties seemed to provide allowance for so much more _life_ than marrying at just sixteen.

As for herself, Emma wanted to do far too many things - embark on adventures, travel the realm - to yet be ready to settle down. She'd marry eventually, she supposed - if only to produce an heir of her own - but there was no hurry there. If her parents' legacy rang true, perhaps she'd even find her own true love, rather than marrying for political alliance as so many of her friends were prepared to do. In the interim, she was content to hone her archery skills, travel the countryside on horseback and continue her tutelage on the diplomacy of the kingdom. Heavens knew those studies would be necessary if she was ever to rule - nearly eighteen years she'd been alive and she'd yet to learn to hold her tongue. Her mother had long since declared it hopeless, but her father was undeterred in his insistence that her temper may yet be tamed.

To her credit, the princess saved her sharp tongue for moments it really mattered, and just as she'd been taught by her mother - passed down from her mother before her - it would never, never be levied at the servants. And so, despite her displeasure at lack of appropriate attire for the ball, she remained gracious.

"Mama, what do you think?" she asked, looking up at her mother standing before her.

"I think the navy will suit you nicely. You've not worn it yet to a ball," she replied as she took a seat next to Emma.

"No? I thought King Midas' birthday..."

Snow shook her head. "It was similar in color, but you've outgrown the one you wore then. That was nearly two years ago."

"How do you remember these things, Mama?" Emma asked with a laugh.

Snow smiled demurely. "Acquired skill, my darling daughter. Some day you will do the same."

"I'm afraid not," Emma replied. "I have no eye for these things. Ball gowns are not my forte."

"Emma…" Snow said, hints of an oft-repeated argument evident in her tone.

"I know, I know," she said with a roll of her eyes, "I cannot wear my riding trousers to the ball. I am not suggesting such a thing! Merely noting that unlike most of my peers, I do not live and breathe for the Saturdays we spend in fancy dress."

"You are my daughter after all," Snow said with a chuckle. "I would expect nothing less."

"What?" Emma replied in mock astonishment. "The daughter of the great warrior Snow White, preferring trousers to ball gowns? Do not tell Daddy, he will faint dead away from the shock of it all."

"Your father fainting at the shock of anything is perhaps the most amusing notion here, dearest Emma," Snow replied, and both mother and daughter descended into a fit of giggles at the picture it painted in their minds.

It was Emma who recovered first, and she surfaced for air with an apology. "I'm so sorry Colleen! I don't know what's gotten into us. The navy will be lovely for Saturday. Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure," Colleen replied with a curtsey as she ducked out of the princess' bedchamber, arms full of rejected dresses. This left mother and daughter alone to resume their giggles, and they did so without delay.

"Poor Colleen," Snow finally gasped out as she attempted to recover.

"Mama, I should think she'd be used to it by now, we only giggle like children several times a week."

"My darling girl, whatever would I do without you here to keep me young?" Snow looked at her daughter with a glimmer in her eye, leaning over to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into a hug.

"Certainly life would be quite boring," Emma replied as she returned the embrace. "I am sure running a kingdom would occupy none of your time."

"None whatsoever, my dear Emma," she laughed in response. "Nor tending the staff, or spending time with your father..."

"Where is Daddy, by the way?" Emma asked, tilting her head in a manner reminiscent of her mother.

"He had an appointment in the village," Snow replied. "He should return shortly."

"Perhaps I'll walk down to meet him, now that the dress fitting is done," Emma mused.

"Very well," her mother replied, "Just bring him back in time for supper. No heading off on an adventure and forgetting to eat!"

"Yes Mama," Emma said with another giggle. "I'll make sure we both return in time to be fed."

With that, she darted off towards the foyer, and out onto the road beyond. The road towards the nearest village saw little traffic this time of year, with most harvests complete for the season, and so Emma was able to enjoy a few moments of solitude on the mild autumn day as she walked. Several minutes into her travels, she spied her father galloping towards her on horseback, and she happily called out to him. "Daddy!" she cried, greeting him with a wave and a smile as he slowed the animal.

"Darling Emma," he replied, pulling at the reigns to halt the horse as a grin overtook his face. Dismounting, he asked, "What brings you out here?"

"Mama said you'd gone to the village. I thought I'd take the opportunity to meet up with you and enjoy the weather. Did your appointment go well?" she replied. They began to walk side-by-side, Charming leading the horse with one hand as Emma linked her arm in his free one.

"Indeed. I settled a dispute between farmers over a piece of land. I would have been back hours ago, but I was waylaid by a merchant who was concerned about the expiry of our trade agreement with Avonlea. I must have explained five times before he understood that the agreement does not expire for more than a year yet, far too early to begin negotiations."

"Goodness," Emma said in response. "You have the patience of a saint. I would have bitten his nose clean off."

"Nonsense, Emma," he replied with a fond look at his daughter. "You'll learn, in due time, just as I have."

"I suspect matters of sword and bow will remain my forte," she said with a laugh. "Now come, Mama was adamant we not be late for dinner."

With that, they returned to the castle and the small family dined - blithely unaware that this dinner together would be the last they had before their world was turned upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes the most monumentous days start no differently than the rest, and so it was on this day at the royal palace. Snow and Charming had taken to the library, as was their daily habit, to enjoy some morning reading. Sitting with their backs to the massive oak bookcases, they had settled side by side in lounge chairs, enjoying each others' quiet company. Merely twenty minutes into their respite, a knock came at the door, disrupting their peaceful morning routine.

"Your Highnesses?" a voice sounded, the door sliding open a crack to reveal a royal messenger. "There is a visitor here to see you."

Snow's focus remained on her book as she replied. "We're otherwise engaged at the moment. Please let them know they'll need an appointment."

There was a pause before the servant answered. "He says it is urgent."

"Then you may pass a message on to one of our advisors. They can handle it."

"The visitor demands to speak directly with you. He said that I should tell you his name is..." The messenger hesitated, dread filling his eyes before he gulped and continued in a whisper, "Rumplestiltskin."

The princess' eyes lifted from her reading at this. "Please show him to the parlor. We'll be down momentarily." Her reply was delivered in a well-practiced calm, perfected after ruling through two decades of crises, and she was careful not to visibly react despite the concern that had sprung up and twisted her stomach into knots. Certainly she understood the servant's dread, as the princess had never known a visit of Rumplestiltskin's to foretell any sort of pleasantness, and even her persistent optimism did not allow the possibility that this visit might be any different.

The servant gave a nod and allowed the door to the library to swing shut as he retreated. Once the door was firmly closed, Snow's gaze shifted to her husband. "Rumplestiltskin... What do you think that he wants?"

Charming locked eyes with her, no hint of a smile visible and Snow knew instantly that he was in agreement with her about the severity of the situation. "I have an idea," he said in a low voice, "but I certainly hope that I'm wrong."

Though it had been over a decade since they'd discussed the deal that they had made with the sorcerer, they were both well-aware of the stakes as Emma's birthday neared. Once their daughter became old enough to understand such things, Charming had convinced Snow there was no use in fretting over what they couldn't control, and as such they came to an agreement to put it out of their minds and live their lives without the constant dread of the visit they knew would one day come. Though both hoped that they were wrong, the timing of the sorcerer's arrival left them hard-pressed to find another reason for his sudden appearance.

"She comes of age tomorrow..." Snow said quietly, and as her husband held her gaze, he could see the fear seeping into her eyes.

"I know," the prince replied, mirroring her concern. "Let's just hope _he_ doesn't."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin sat in a high backed chair near the fireplace, dark woods and rich fabrics surrounding him as he waited in the parlor that the royals reserved for entertaining their most important guests. He fidgeted idly with his fingers, eager to get the show underway. His eyes lit upon the doorway as he heard approaching footsteps, watching with mild amusement as the prince swept into the room, finding his assertive demeanor ironic in light of the impending conversation.

Charming's eyes showed no light as they landed on his long-time adversary. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Ah, the Prince has arrived," came the reply, the elder man expertly avoiding the question.

"We did not have a choice, now did we?" replied Snow as she entered mere steps behind her husband.

"I suppose not," Rumplestiltskin conceded. "I do pride myself on being a rather commanding presence. As for the subject matter of my visit - I do believe tomorrow is the princess' birthday, is it not?"

"It is," replied her mother. "She'll be of age." A pause and then, "Is that to what we owe this visit?"

The sorcerer smiled, feigning innocence as a contrast to his words. "Well, dearie... what do you think?" He paused before continuing, watching the royal couple lock eyes in lieu of responding. "I do believe we had a deal."

The prince broke his wife's gaze to step towards Rumplestiltskin. "You cannot seriously mean to collect on that!"

"Yes well... generally if I make a deal, then I do indeed do mean to collect on it," he replied with a giggle. "As it happens, I do believe I was promised your daughter's hand in marriage." Seeing the rage rise in the prince's eyes, he held a hand up in defense, ducking his head slightly as he amended his statement. "All right, all right, rather I was promised the choice of to whom your daughter's hand would be given... certainly I have no need for it myself."

"And have you made such a choice?" Charming asked, his eyes growing wide.

"Indeed I have."

"Emma will never agree to it," he replied defiantly, squaring his shoulders as he readied for the battle ahead.

"Has she been left unaware of our agreement?!" the sorcerer exclaimed, his displeasure clear.

Despite her best efforts, Snow blushed a bit under the admonishment. "Yes, we-"

"We never saw it fit to tell her," Charming interrupted before Snow resumed pleading her case.

"We believed you'd relent-"

Rumpelstiltskin let out a high-pitched giggle, fairly dancing in his place in excitement. "You expected me to relent on a deal? My, we really have not seen much of each other lately, have we."

"We expected that you could not possibly be so cruel as to expect a mere child to marry a stranger," snapped the prince.

"But that is how it is done in this land, is not not? Marriages for political alliance, marriages for financial gain - or have we forgotten dear Abigail already?"

"Yet Abigail and I both ultimately married our true loves," the prince fired back.

"Ah, yet dear Princess Emma will not be so lucky. Perhaps love will follow the marriage?"

"Doubtful."

"Well if your daughter refuses to make good on the deal..." Rumplestiltskin trailed off, punctuating his statement with a giggle to highlight the threat that had been evident in his voice.

"Our daughter will do what is in the best interests of the kingdom," Charming replied.

"Is there something that can be offered to you in exchange for leaving this decision in Emma's hands?" Snow asked, speaking softly in hopes that she might appeal to the sorcerer's penchant for bargaining.

"Of course," he replied, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I'd gladly take your heads on a platter."

"You'd sooner punish a mere child than allow us to amend the deal?" Charming replied, stepping towards Rumplestiltskin as his temper flared again.

The Dark One rose to his feet and stared back, unblinking. "This deal was not at an insignificant price. You've had eighteen years with your daughter that you would not have had otherwise. Or have you forgotten the consequence of the Dark Curse?"

"But you were able to avoid the curse - it is no longer a threat," the prince growled.

"But all magic comes with a price, dearie, and the magic I employed in subverting the curse was not insignificant."

"So the price..."

"Remains Emma's hand, or your lives. Your choice!"

Snow and Charming exchanged a glance, decades of shared decisions lending the ability to communicate without words as they silently agreed upon what they needed to do. "Colleen?" Snow called, stepping into the hall to hail the servant. "Can you call Emma in, please?"

"Certainly, m'lady," the maid agreed.

Several minutes ticked past with the room's occupants in silent deadlock until the young princess appeared in the room. She scooted in through the rear door, the one which that backed up to the family's quarters, rather than the main one used by those who might be arriving to seek the counsel of the royal family. "Yes Mama? Daddy?"

"Emma..." Snow began, "We would like you to meet an... acquaintance of ours. Rumplestiltskin."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," she replied demurely, cautiously, as the man's reputation preceded him.

"Emma, Rumplestiltskin has come to collect on a debt we owe him, payment for a service he provided to us many years ago."

"A debt?"

"Indeed."

Emma looked between her parents, puzzled at her inclusion in this discussion. "What sort of debt? Is there something that you need from me in particular? Cannot this debt be repaid with gold, with livestock..."

"It is not that sort of debt, dear Emma." Snow faltered, pausing in her explanation as she debated the least damaging way to reveal the situation to her beloved daughter. "Many years ago, your father and I were faced with a desperate, impossible choice. In order to save you, in order to save the kingdom, we made a promise that Rumplestiltskin could arrange your marriage."

Emma stared at them, speechless, several moments ticking past before she was able to manage even the simplest of replies. "You... what?"

"Please don't be angry, Emma. Just hear your mother out," her father asked, pleading.

Her father's pleas had exactly the opposite effect as he'd hoped, as Emma's temper came charging in with abandon. "You promised me away in marriage, never consulted me on the matter, and you want me to _not_ _be angry_?"

"The alternative-"

"The alternative should have been to advise me that you'd bartered away my life!"

"Emma, we didn't-"

"Didn't you?" She cut her father off once again. "I am quite certain that we are standing here with this strange man insisting he arrange my marriage, are we not?"

Her parents did not argue or affirm, but simply dropped their gazes as Emma turned to address their guest. "Have you chosen a suitor for me already?" she asked. "I'm not yet of age!"

"But in a day's time, you will be," he responded, an air of smugness surrounding him.

"You didn't answer my question," she replied, anger bubbling over as she advanced towards the sorcerer.

"Well of course I have," he replied flippantly. "Why else would I be here, if not to collect on the deal?"

Emma willed away her nerves and drew on her anger as she replied through clenched teeth. "And who, pray tell, have you arranged for me to marry?"

"Nothing but the finest for you, dear princess - I have decided are you to marry my son!" he exclaimed with a flourish.

Snow and Charming gaped at this, astonished not only at Rumplestiltskin's choice but the familial revelation it contained. Emma, meanwhile, was too angry at the entire concept to form words, narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth as she struggled to pull in a breath and ease it out slowly - an attempt to keep her temper in check. It was Snow who regained her composure first, addressing him with the only thought she could formulate into a coherent sentence. "I didn't know you had a son."

"Most don't," he replied with annoyance. "I've had a life outside of being the Dark One, you know."

Emma finally regained her voice and began lashing out once again. "I have heard tales of your dealings, Dark One, and I can only imagine the horrors you've passed on to a child. I cannot imagine any leverage causing me to concede that union."

"Not even your parents' lives?"

"You wouldn't," she said, glowering.

"Ah ah, it's in the contract, dearie," he replied, producing it from thin air and watching her horrified expression with amusement as it unfurled in front of her. "My terms were quite clear."

She locked eyes with him in defiance, searching for any sign of a bluff but she found none. Without releasing his gaze, she spoke again through clenched jaw, "There must be another way."

"Well dearie, I've provided you with two, I don't see any use wasting my energy in finding a third."

She closed her eyes and drew a breath in through her nose, mind running wild as she searched for a way out of the situation. Stalling for time, she steadied herself as she pushed the breath back out and forced her eyes open, asking, "Why don't you tell me about your son, then."

"Bae was... lost to me for a time. He has returned but seems unhappy with his lot in life. I suspect that providing him with a wife will improve his disposition."

"You expect wedding him to a perfect stranger will make him content with his situation? Certainly you must be kidding. "

"On the contrary, Princess," he sneered. "'Kidding' is not a thing that I do. Bae is lonely, in need of companionship, and you'll do nicely."

Emma cast a glance at her parents, hoping that they would send her a signal or come to her rescue in some manner, but instead she found them looking back at her with apologies in their eyes. In that moment she had the horrifying realization that her parents had resigned themselves to following through with the arrangement they'd made so long ago, leaving her in this fight on her own. Involuntarily, she gave a hard swallow before shifting her eyes back to meet the inhuman ones that were staring her down. Scrambling to keep her footing in the conversation, she tried yet another tack. "Am I at least permitted to meet this person I'm expected to marry?"

"Certainly," the sorcerer replied, his reaction to her request surprisingly reasonable and without snark. "Baelfire," he called, "Please come meet your bride!"

Emma saw a boy of about her age reluctantly round the corner, presumably having been asked by his father to wait in the hall. She regarded him warily; at first blush there did not appear to be anything untoward about him, though you never could tell. He was a touch taller than her, wavy brown hair, dressed in respectable clothing with his nerves plastered all over his face. His eyes met hers and he tossed her a shy smile, receiving little more than a scowl for his efforts.

"Hello," the boy greeted her cordially. "I'm Baelfire. Bae, if you will. Pleased to meet you."

"Truly wish I could say the same, sir," Emma replied curtly.

Bae opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times, unsure how to deal with such rudeness coming from the blonde standing in front of him. Finally he settled on an apology. "I'm terribly sorry, princess, to have upset you so."

"You're sorry for upsetting me? What sort of reaction did you expect, marching into my home and demanding my hand in marriage?"

"Don't pay Emma any mind," Snow interjected, finally finding her voice in her desperation to save the meeting. "She's just in a bit of shock. We all are, to be honest. I'm sure you can understand."

"Certainly, m'lady," he replied with a bow. "Unfortunately I've found that my father tends to have that effect on people."

"Please, call me Snow. It seems we're to be family, no need for formalities."

Bae merely nodded, deference to the royal leaders a long-instilled habit. Emma, for her part, sneered at the conversation and - despite her earlier revelation - attempted to appeal to her parents once more. "Am I truly expected to marry this boy? I don't even know him! For all I know, he could be a deviant!"

He bristled a bit at this, the gracious shell fading slightly as he fed off of her impertinent attitude. "_I_ could be a deviant? With all due respect, m'lady, am I to assume that you are pure of heart simply because you are a princess? Which is it that you object to, the fact that I am merely a spinner's son, or the son of the Dark One?"

Emma's eyes grew wide, unaccustomed to having someone match her sharp tongue. Before she could fire back another barb, her father stepped forward and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps this discussion would best be shelved for the moment, to allow our young people their rest. We can reconvene in a while, after some supper?"

"Yes, it seems that would be wise," Rumplestiltskin agreed.

"You and your son are welcome to visit the garden, and I will have Colleen make up a chamber for you to relax in. Supper will be in ninety minutes," the prince offered.

"Thank you, sir," Bae replied.

* * *

Once they reached the garden, Bae again attempted to appeal to his father. "Papa, truly there must be a way around this, something not requiring me to marry this girl!"

"Baelfire," his father growled, "We have been over this. The deal must be fulfilled. Nobody breaks deals with me!"

"PAPA!" he hollered back. "This is absurd! You heard her in there - she is utterly spoiled, she has a terrible temper - and furthermore she dreads the idea of being wed to a stranger! What kind of life do you think we will have together?"

"A life where you will be respected, where you can be prince of this land instead of being the disrespected son of a cowardly spinner, or feared because you are the son of the Dark One."

"But I do not want to be a prince!" he protested. "And I do not want to marry a girl who does not want to marry me!"

Rumplestiltskin let his son's protests roll off of his back, shrugging his shoulders as he continued to press his point. "Ah, but Bae, princeship is what you deserve, and as your father it's my job to make sure you get what you deserve out of life."

"But I do not want it, Papa. I do not want that marriage and I do not want that life!" He stepped towards his father, placing a hand on his arm as he dropped his voice. "Please - let's return home to your castle and leave this family to their devices."

"Bae," he replied, a threat brewing just below his eerily calm surface, "We will not depart without the deal being fulfilled. You will marry the princess, and she will be accompanying us when we return home."

"Papa!"

"Enough!" Rumplestiltskin roared, causing Bae to jump back in shock at the sudden swing in his attitude. "You will see this through and in time, you will see that I have done this _for_ you."

"I shall never, never see that. You have not committed this atrocity for me - it has been done only for the benefit you seek for yourself."

* * *

"Emma," Snow began, pleading with her daughter as she watched her pacing furiously in the parlor.

"What?" Emma replied, visibly seething.

"Just let us explain-"

At that, Emma's anger boiled over. "Explain that you sold me away like some sort of cattle, that you expect me to marry a total stranger, that my choice in the matter is not a choice at all? Explain how not for a moment did you jump to my defense? Explain how for eighteen years you never once mentioned this was to be my fate?"

"This was to save you, Emma, from a fate far worse. To save our kingdom, to save-"

"Well," she said bitterly, cutting her mother off, "Now it is to save yourselves."

"Emma," Snow said softly as she advanced towards her daughter, placing a hand on her arm, pleading evident in her tone of voice. "Emma, please. You have to understand the position we were in."

"What I _understand_ is the position that _I_ am now in. In less than a day, I will be ripped from my life, married to someone who is not only a stranger but the _son of the Dark One_, and carted away to someone else's home to live as they will for me. I don't know what worse fate you were saving me from, but I am hard pressed to imagine a fate worse than that."

With that, Emma turned on her heel and fled the room, ignoring the cries of her parents as they echoed behind her as she dashed down the hall.

* * *

_Keep your chin up, breathe deep, don't cry, Emma_ \- don't cry! - _chin up, breathe, don't cry, chin up, breathe, don't cry, _she repeated to herself, over and over, the words in her head chanting to the rhythm of her hurried steps as she walked as quickly as she could without arousing the suspicion of the staff. She ducked into a side corridor, years of using the castle as her own personal maze and playground finally proving themselves useful as she took a circuitous route to her chamber in hopes of eluding her mother's pursuit. Emma knew that Snow would be on her heels, trying to smooth the situation over as she always did - and usually she was successful. But this time was different, Emma knew, not some tiff about social engagements or her responsibilities as a member of the royal family. As she rounded the final corner to her chamber, she checked to ensure the hallway was clear before darting down it and into the room she'd had since she was a tiny child, swinging the heavy door shut behind her and sliding the lock into place.

Finally assured of being alone, she curled onto her bed and allowed herself the luxury of a few stray tears escaping from the corners of her eyes and sliding onto her pillow. Being a strong-willed child of strong-willed parents, arguing with them was something that was not foreign to her - but the one thing they'd always offered to her was honesty, and she'd grown up feeling that she could trust them implicitly. Finding out that they'd kept this secret from her for her entire life was a betrayal of enormous magnitude, making her question the very foundation of that relationship. Shattered was the only word that came to mind, as if her entire world had crumbled in the course of a single conversation, and she wasn't sure how the pieces could ever be restructured into what they'd been before.

It wasn't the fact that she'd have an arranged marriage that bothered her, per se. Certainly, she was raised understanding that she had responsibilities to the kingdom and to the royal line, but she'd also been raised knowing that her parents had married for love and that they'd had the same hopes for her. She'd expected that should a different situation arise, should a political marriage become necessary, she'd at least have some time to become acquainted with her betrothed before the wedding date - at a minimum, to be able to ensure that he was not entirely boorish or ill-tempered. The fact that such an arrangement had never been a possibility, to know that her parents had known it would never happen and yet they had not seen fit to prepare her for the eventuality of what was to come ate at her very soul.

Those thoughts swirled around and around until another one rose to take its place, this one the full weight of what her next days were to be. This would be her last night in her home - the place she'd lived her entire life - and tomorrow would bring a new and terrifying frontier. She'd be spirited away to live with strangers, utterly alone and at their mercy, and that thought was almost paralyzing. She'd go, without question, to spare her parents' lives, but the reality of the situation brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes.

A knock at the door startled Emma from her thoughts, though it shouldn't have been particularly surprising - she'd known her mother would find her sooner rather than later. "Go away," she called, voice muffled by the bedding that surrounded her face but still audible through the door.

"Emma-"

"Go away!" she yelled, lifting her head and fighting back the sobs that rose suddenly and threatened to burst forth at the sound of her mother's voice. After all, what was one to do when the person most able to provide them comfort was a primary source of their heartache?

"Emma, please-"

"GO AWAY!" she screamed, sitting up as her emotions finally burst forth and she dissolved into sobs, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Emma was vaguely aware of her mother's quiet cries through the door before she heard the sound of her footsteps retreating, but she couldn't bring herself to rise and stop her. Instead she resumed her tightly curled position on top of her duvet, arms clutching the pillow that was absorbing her tears as she cried out her frustration, fear and the feelings of betrayal that dwarfed it all.

* * *

It wasn't long after that encounter that the appointed time for dinner arose, and the prince and princess entered the dining hall with heavy hearts. Snow had taken a few minutes to freshen up after her crying jag, determined to present a strong front to their visitors.

"Where is the princess?" Rumplestiltskin asked, clearly deriving some sort of twisted pleasure from watching the small family crumble.

"She won't be joining us this evening," Snow replied, chin lifted as she dared the sorcerer to defy her.

"You'll allow her to sulk in her room instead of getting to know her betrothed?" he needled.

"You leave her alone," Charming interjected. "You may decide her fate tomorrow, but tonight she is still our daughter and we will parent as her we see fit. Emma needs some space to process all that has happened and we shall allow her to have it."

Rumplestiltskin stared him down for a long moment before finally producing a curt nod. "Very well," he replied. "Baelfire, have a seat, please."

The boy did as was requested. The prince seated himself at the head of the table, as was customary, with his wife to his right. Across from her was their daughter's young suitor, wide-eyed and uncertain as he sat trapped between his own father and the one he was slated to acquire. The table stretched on down beyond them, far too large for a party of this size, but Snow and Charming had agreed that dining in the nook where the family typically took their meals was out of the question. The intrusion on the family's safe space was simply too much to endure at the moment.

"Bae, is it?" the prince asked, addressing the young man as dinner was placed before the foursome.

Bae nodded, eyes trained respectfully on the prince. "Short for Baelfire."

"A most unusual name," the prince replied, searching for things to discuss with the boy as he attempted to evaluate him, to determine if he was a threat to his daughter before allowing the union to occur.

"My mother chose it," Bae replied.

"And where is she?" Snow asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Dead," came the reply, delivered coarsely as only Rumplestiltskin could. Bae shot a glare at him, causing Snow and Charming to exchange a look as they wondered about the background of the strained father-son relationship.

"I'm so sorry," Snow replied, eyes fixed on Bae as she tried to glean more information about him. "I, too, lost my mother at a young age."

Bae nodded, accepting her condolences. "It was just Papa and I growing up, until-" He cut himself off, glancing up at his father and giving a shake of his head. "Well, I suppose it doesn't much matter now."

"We'd like to get to know you, Bae," Charming offered again. "You'll be marrying our daughter, which means you'll be family. And family is the most important thing to Snow and I." Bae nodded again, indicating his understanding even as he remained quiet. The prince continued with his line of questioning by asking, "What can you tell us about yourself? Do you have a trade? Hobbies, interests..."

Bae furrowed his brow as he considered. "I draw a bit, I enjoy reading..." He sent a bitter look towards his father. "I don't get out much, to be honest."

"Bae's a lovely boy," Rumplestiltskin offered up. "I think you'll find Emma to be quite happy with him. The arrangement was for her to marry a good man, and Bae is just that. He won't hurt your daughter, of that you have my word - for what little it's worth. He's a far better son than I deserve."

Snow and Charming exchanged another glance, neither responding to the endorsement. Bae sat uncomfortably as they turned their focus back onto him, intending to resume their interrogation, when instead the dining room door opened. The table went silent, all eyes falling on the young bride-to-be as she entered the hall.

Wordlessly, Emma's eyes darted about the table, finding Bae in her normal spot. Three times she circled the group with her eyes, trying to decide which seating position was the least threatening before finally settling on the seat next to her mother. Barely a minute after she was seated, a plate was surreptitiously placed in front of her and she began to eat quietly, failing to offer a greeting or acknowledgement to any of her tablemates. Finally, Rumplestiltskin was the one to break the silence, eyes fixed on the table's newest arrival.

"Any requests for your wedding, then? I think noon will do nicely as a start time."

Emma slowly looked up at him as she lowered her fork, drawing her shoulders back and folding her hands into her lap. Was this man out of his mind? "Are you truly asking me if I have requests for the wedding I am being forced into?"

"Well I thought that perhaps you'd enjoy having a say in some aspects of the ceremony, but it appears I was mistaken." Looking at his son, he continued. "Bae? Any suggestions?"

Bae merely stared back, his usual emotion of incredulousness at his father's actions rising to the surface, and blinked as Rumplestiltskin shifted his focus once again, this time landing on the prince and princess to his right. "I trust that you have someone on staff authorized to perform weddings, do you not?"

"We do," Snow replied quietly.

"Very well then. We will convene in the great hall at noon. Ensure that Emma has her trunk packed beforehand, we'll begin the journey home directly after the ceremony."

"You'll do no such thing," Charming growled, nearly knocking his chair over as he jumped to his feet.

Rumplestiltskin lounged back in his chair. "Calm yourself! I've already told you, no harm will come to your daughter. Did you really think she'd continue to live at home, stay here with Mommy and Daddy, after being married? You know just as well as I do that it's customary in this land for brides to go with their grooms, and Emma will be doing exactly that." Observing the prince's still-stormy disposition and flaring nostrils, the sorcerer continued. "It's not me that she is marrying, and it's not me she will be coming with. I have no plans to interfere in this relationship, and I am not spiriting your daughter away, merely taking her with her husband to their new home. Surely you can appreciate that this is an expected effect of a marriage!"

"He's right, Charming," Snow offered, to the surprise of all present. "If she's to marry this boy, she needs to go with him. Her place will be by his side."

Her husband blinked at her, and she looked around the table to find four sets of eyes fixated on her. "You're in support of this?" he asked.

"If we've no choice but to let the wedding proceed, the best thing we can do is let Emma try to forge a life with him."

"Even your wife is in agreement," Rumplestiltskin addressed the angry father. "Settle down and finish your supper." As he found his seat, the sorcerer continued. "Bae and I are finished here, we'll leave the three of you to eat your meals in peace. We'll see you tomorrow at noon."

* * *

Much later, after the sun had set, she'd seen to the comfort of their guests and checked on their daughter, Snow crawled into bed next to her husband. She could tell by his breathing that he'd not yet fallen asleep, and she laid her head on his shoulder, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before he broke the silence.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" he asked, voice soft and contemplative.

She thought for a minute, considering the best way to answer the question she'd asked herself countless times that day. "I don't think we were left with a choice. We made this decision long ago, Charming, we have to trust that it was the right one."

The pillowcase crackled as the prince shook his head, shrouded in self-doubt. "Do you really think it was, though? To allow her to be carted off to that monster's home... it just feels like we've traded our daughter's life for our own, or for the well-being of our kingdom. The burden we've put on her is enormous." He sighed. "I just want Emma to be happy."

"Charming..." Snow matched his sigh, struggling to express the multitude of feelings she had on the subject. "I want the same for her, you know that I do. I just don't know that second guessing ourselves is the best way to help her achieve that. It's impossible to know what her life would have looked like if we'd made a different decision. As terrible as things look right now... if we hadn't made this deal, there's no telling how she'd be, _where_ she'd be, on the eve of her 18th birthday. Perhaps it would be a better situation than this, but the possibility exists that it would be worse. She would have grown up in a foreign land without us, without _anyone. _What type of person would she be? What type of life would she lead? We have no way of knowing if the choices she'd be forced to make in that life might be worse than the choices that have been made in this one. I have to have faith that we've done the best we could by her, given her her best chance. And right now that means standing by her, supporting her however we can as she sets off on this new chapter."

"How do we do that, though? She won't be here for us to support her."

She rolled over to look at him, catching his gaze in the dim moonlight as she sent him a gentle smile. "She'll still be around, she'll still come to visit us. It won't be the same, and I worry for her happiness, but I don't think this Bae will hurt her. Rumplestiltskin is a complicated man, but he's given his word that he won't interfere after the marriage. I have to believe that to be true. We've no option but to let her go, and I can't live in fear for her. She'll always be our little girl, but the time has come to let her live out her life as we've raised her to do."

"We didn't prepare her for this, though. She's been raised to rule a kingdom, not to play hostage to a deranged sorcerer."

"And she shall rule the kingdom, dear, some day. Give them some time to settle in and we can talk about those expectations once things have normalized again."

He sighed once more. "I thought these times were behind us, that we were living our happily ever after."

"And I have faith that we shall yet. Emma will find her way in this, of that I am certain."

* * *

**A/N - Thanks for the great reception to this story - it is (obviously) quite a bit different than Bent, but I am really enjoying it and I hope you all do, too! Please be patient with me; the first few updates will be a bit slower in posting but you have my word that I won't abandon ship and it should pick up after that!**

**Continued thanks to textbookone for serving as my faithful beta. You know I couldn't do it without you! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N -**

**1) I am a terrible person who clearly is unable to update in a timely fashion. All I can say for myself is that a) I promise to keep writing this and b) I am sorry for slowness of updates.**

**2) THANK YOU as always to beta textbookone. Also, thank you Astrawoid for giving this a read-through for me and your input! Much appreciated! :)**

**3) I don't mind anon reviews (I appreciate ALL reviews, thank you!) or criticisms but unfortunately I have no way to answer them... so to the anon who asked about Emma's siblings (or lack thereof) - I'd be happy to explain my reasoning there but you'll need to shoot me a PM, since I started writing out my answer and it would rival the length of the chapter, ha ha!**

**THANKS as always for everyone's kind words - I hope you enjoy this one! **

* * *

The next morning, Bae lay staring at the ceiling, studying its unfamiliar pattern as the impending events of the day ran through his mind. He glanced from his cot to the large bed where his father slept, snoring softly as if he hadn't a care in the world. Bae sighed, rolling to his side and readjusting his blankets as he considered the heartache his father's manipulations were causing for yet another family. He made a mental vow to apologize to this Emma as soon as he could - likely once they arrived back at his father's castle. He could only imagine how angry and frightened she must be - she had no reason to trust that he'd respect her space and autonomy, leaving her to live her life as she wished despite the legal bond his father insisted on putting them under. Leveraging her parents' lives as he'd done would undoubtedly cause the girl to agree to untold horrors, and once again Bae felt the crushing guilt that rose from the myriad of actions his father had taken in his name. Dreading the union though he might, he stood firm in the mindset that he could not and would not be responsible for permanently destroying this family. At least with Emma as his bride, her parents would still have the opportunity to receive visits from her and enjoy their daughter's company - something they could not do if they were dead.

Across the castle, Emma tossed and turned, similar thoughts swirling through her mind. She'd fallen into a hard sleep shortly after dinner, but that welcome release had been short-lived. Her dreamless slumber had given way to nightmares, each time losing her parents in a different and newly terrifying way, and by shortly after midnight she'd given up the pretense that she'd get any rest at all. Seeing morning's first light peeking through the drapes, she tossed back the covers in frustration and climbed out of bed, heading for her closet to begin the arduous task of packing the trunk she'd been instructed to have ready. As she moved across the room, Emma caught a glance at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh; while she'd certainly never had a wedding day before, she was quite certain this was not the look of a typical bride-to-be. Somewhere between the dark circles under her eyes and look of dread plastered across her face, the sight almost made her smile in its irony. The feeling was short-lived, though, with her stomach resuming its angry churning before long while she prepared to face the day.

As the sun continued its climb into the sky, the occupants of a castle on the other side of the kingdom began stirring as well. Their slumber had been far more productive than that of the young couple, having lasted since the princess' birth eighteen years earlier. "Come now, wake up," one said to the other, using a toe to prod the sagging mattress on which he slept. "The time has come, and we must formulate a plan."

* * *

There was a quiet tap on Emma's door before it was pushed open a crack and her mother's voice streamed in. "Emma? I brought you some breakfast," she said, stepping in and sliding the door closed behind her.

Snow surveyed the room; at the foot of her daughter's bed sat the massive trunk that had been brought in the previous evening, a few odds and ends tossed into the bottom of it. Several pairs of trousers lay folded across the propped up lid and a dozen dresses lay strewn across the four-poster bed. She could hear the daughter in question inside of her dressing room, mumbling to herself as she sorted through the garments inside. It was clear from the chaos that Emma was at a loss as to how to pack for a journey of this magnitude. Snow heaved a sigh, realizing she'd likely been working at it for hours and wishing she'd thought to come in to assist much earlier.

She set the breakfast tray on the bedside table and called her daughter's name again, sticking her head into the closet as she did so. Emma jumped, looking up at her mother sheepishly as she held up two nearly identical shawls, clearly in debate over which to take with her. "Oh, hi Mama," she said, her anger of the previous day appearing to have simmered down. "I was just trying to get my things ready."

"I see," Snow replied, actively biting back a smile at the tornadic conditions of her daughter's room. "Perhaps I could assist you?"

"I'd appreciate it," Emma said, blushing with embarrassment at the mess she'd made. "I'm not sure what exactly I should be taking, what I should leave behind, how much the trunk will hold..."

"Relax," her mother replied. "You'll start by eating the breakfast I brought you, then we'll talk it through together." She held her hands out in front of her and Emma nodded, depositing the shawls into them as she walked past her mother and into the bedroom.

"It's just so much, Mama," she said, her overwhelming emotions seeping through as she perched on the edge of her bed and pulled the tray towards her, absentmindedly picking apart the edges of the toast that lay on it. "I don't even know where to begin."

Snow followed, setting the shawls down on a pile of discarded garments as she walked past. "You begin at the beginning, just as you do for any journey we take."

"But the beginning always starts with, 'How long will we be gone for?' And I don't know what to do when the answer is 'forever," she said, the corners of her mouth turning down against her will as she fought back a fresh round of tears.

"Oh, Emma," came the reply, and her mother crossed the room in three quick strides. "It isn't so bad as all that. You'll be back to visit us regularly, I know you will."

"It's not the same," she protested, "This isn't just some small visit. This is me, leaving my home, going to live with a boy I've just met. How do I do that, Mama? How do I pack up everything, my entire life, in a single trunk?"

"You just do," she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter and rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You take what we think you'll need for now, and you can get the rest next time you're here. It'll be all right, Emma," she reassured her.

"That's easy for you to say," Emma said, lifting her head up and sniffling. "You're not the one being sent off with the Dark One."

"No," she replied, "But I've faced uncertain spots in life before. You just do the best you can and keep pressing forward."

"Keep pressing forward?! Mama, surely you must speak in jest. In a matter of hours, my life as I knew it - every hope and dream that stretched before me just yesterday - will be over. I have to stand up in front of the royal court and vow to love this boy for all eternity. How am I to do that when I've barely said two words to him?"

"You'll make it work, Emma. Your father and I have arranged to have a small, private ceremony so that there will be fewer eyes on the two of you. I have faith that you can hold your temper long enough to get through it."

She shook her head. "It's not the ceremony I'm worried about, Mama. It's the life that follows after that."

"He won't be a stranger forever, Emma."

"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked doubtfully.

"Perhaps it will, Emma, in time... perhaps as you get to know him you'll find common ground, something to bond over."

Emma closed her eyes and sighed, growing weary of her mother's blind optimism. "Or perhaps I'll find that he and I have completely different ideals, and we'll be miserable into perpetuity." She could feel her frustrations rising to the surface again, and decided that perhaps it would be better to dismiss her mother than to begin snapping at her. "Thank you for the breakfast, Mama. I think I can finish the packing on my own."

"Nonsense, Emma! I'll be happy to help," Snow said, standing and heading again for the closet.

"Please... I think it's best you go," Emma replied, her tone stopping her mother in her tracks as her patience grew thin. "I think I'd like a few minutes of solitude."

"If that's truly what you wish," Snow replied, unconvinced but willing to bow to her daughter's wishes.

"Please," Emma replied, confirming her wishes with a nod, and so Snow returned to her and pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head. She stepped back, sending her a weak smile before turning to exit, and Emma willed herself not to dissolve into tears once the door had shut behind her mother. Instead, she took a deep breath before sliding down off of the bed and returning to the puzzle that was her closet, where she began tugging her favorite garments off of their hangers in earnest. Best to get the packing out of the way and ensure that the trunk was ready - as had been demanded - rather than risking the wrath of Rumplestiltskin.

* * *

Some time later, Prince Charming knocked on Emma's door and opened it without waiting for a response. He found her seated on the closed trunk that now held the most important of her possessions, clutching the ivory blanket she'd toted around since infancy and staring blankly into the corner of the room. The dried tear tracks on her face only told half the story, but as she turned to face him, the hurt and accusations in her eyes completed it. "Emma," he addressed her, "I know you think no one understands what you're going through. But I do."

She stared back at him wordlessly, a single blink her only acknowledgement of his words as her expression communicated disbelief. "I was once in a similar spot myself," he continued. "Before I knew your mother. I'd been betrothed against my will, under the same threat - to marry or to watch my mother die, our farm burned. You've heard me speak of her - your grandmother Ruth - who gave her life so that your mother and I would have the opportunity at a life together. Sometimes I think we should have named you after her, for she was as kind and selfless a woman as I've ever known. All she wanted was my happiness, even at the expense of her own life, and I could not repay that by allowing her to be killed."

Emma could feel her defenses melting and fought to keep them up, reminding herself that this was yet another tale she'd been sheltered from her entire life. "Why have I never heard this story?"

"You have, in a way; it was Abigail I was with when your mother stopped my carriage."

In Emma's surprise, she forgot for a moment to be angry. "Abigail, James' _mother_ Abigail?"

"One and the same," her father replied with a sigh. "I was masquerading as King George's son, James - another one of Rumplestiltskin's doings - when Midas declared that we should unite the kingdoms. It was when I hesitated that George threatened my mother. Abigail was... not the sweet woman you know now. She came across as haughty, unfeeling and unkind. It turns out that she was mourning the loss of Frederick, and it was not until we were able to get him back that I was able to see her for who she truly was."

Her eyes narrowed again. "Are you trying to get me to give this Baelfire a chance, saying he may not be as he appears?"

"I observed him at dinner last night, Emma, and he does not seem to be a beast. Perhaps in time, the two of you could come to an understanding, forge a friendship." He heard Emma snort, clearly finding the idea preposterous. "But you know, my darling daughter... it wasn't until yesterday that I fully understood what my mother felt all of those years ago. She was willing to be killed in order for me to be free to choose love. I'd like you to know I'd do the same. If you'd like to refuse this union, your mother and I will stand by you. We will call Rumplestiltskin's bluff, and if he takes our lives, so be it. Your mother and I made this deal with him to give you your best chance, and I still want you to have that chance."

Emma met his gaze finally, locking eyes with her father as she shook her head with determination before she spoke. "Certainly, then, you can understand why allowing that to happen is not an option for me. Daddy... I know you mean well but there is not a choice in this. I need you both, I'd be utterly lost without the two of you. I can't allow you to be killed so that I can search for a silly romantic notion, one that may not even exist. I've always known that an arranged marriage was a possibility, were we to find it in the best interests of the kingdom. I just wish I'd known that it was a certainty, that you and Mama had seen fit to tell me about this arrangement."

"Hindsight certainly makes things obvious, doesn't it? Knowing as we do now, we should have told you some time ago. We truly hoped it would not come to pass."

"As you keep saying," Emma said, bitterness creeping back into her voice. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and keep her anger in check. "Come now, they'll be waiting for us." She stood so that she could lift the lid of the trunk, stowing her blanket inside of it before reaching for her father's hand and allowing him to escort her to the hall where the wedding was to take place.

* * *

The wedding was far simpler than one would expect for the kingdom's sole heir, absent of finery, the traditional myriad of well-wishers or - frankly - much circumstance at all. It was, rather, precisely in line with what one would expect from a hastily arranged union, complete with an unenthusiastic bride and groom; the royal family's chaplain performed a simple ceremony, kept brief and attended only by the parents of the betrothed. The bride and groom managed to conduct themselves in a civilized fashion, undoubtedly assisted by Snow's foresight in convincing the chaplain that the groom's family traditionally concluded the ceremony by the joining of hands instead of sealing the union with a kiss. Her faith in her daughter's ability to hold her temper did have its limits, after all.

Shortly after the conclusion of the ceremony, Emma's trunk was loaded onto the top of the carriage and the reluctant newlyweds climbed inside. Emma took one look at Bae and promptly sat on the opposite bench of the carriage, as far as she could possibly get from him, chin raised and jaw set. He abstained from the snarky remark he was considering when he realized that what he had mistaken as snobbery was instead a valiant attempt not to cry. He began mulling over what sort of compassionate comment he might be able to make when his father appeared in the carriage, interrupting his train of thought.

"This won't do at all," his father addressed the duo. "Bae, move over by your bride."

"But Papa-" the boy began in protest, only to be cut off by his father.

"Shh! Do as I've asked. This is no way to start off a marriage."

Reluctantly he crossed the carriage, shooting a smile of apology at Emma. For her part, she merely lifted her chin a few centimeters higher as she slid herself over to the carriage's side wall, leaving as much space between them as she could possibly manage.

The ride to the dark castle was a miserable one for all three involved. Emma's refusal to meet anyone's gaze permitted her to maintain her tear-free appearance, but whether she realized that she was fooling no one, neither man could tell. Her father-in-law tried to start conversation a few times, but neither bride nor groom was willing to engage him, and his temper was beginning to flare. Bae's refusal to speak was fortified by his gaze being firmly rooted to the floor.

As they approached the castle, the young duo was surprised to feel the carriage stop a half-mile shy of their destination. Their surprise only grew as Rumplestiltskin addressed them. "Well, it appears we have arrived. Bae, you'll find your things already arranged inside, and Emma, dearie, your trunk is just inside the door."

"How did you-" she began to ask, uttering her first words since leaving her parents, but she was cut off before she could complete her question.

"Magic," he replied, with a flair of his fingers.

"Where are we?" Bae chimed in.

"Your cottage, of course. Why, you didn't think it would be fitting for a pair of newlyweds to be living under the same roof as me, did you? You'll find I'm a short walk up the hill should you need anything."

"You're leaving us here... alone... together." Emma asked, incredulous. "What if he were to take advantage of me?"

"Well, you _are_ married, dearie. But never fear, Bae was raised to be a gentleman."

"And yet he's presented himself as anything but," she replied, her attitude returning.

"Well at least we're well-paired, since you act little like a lady yourself," he retorted.

"Enough! This is your new home. Consider it a wedding present, and _get out_."

"You'll forgive me if I forget to send a thank you note," Emma said with a snarl as she slammed the door of the carriage open and jumped out onto the ground. She stalked to the cottage door before turning around and firing another question in the general direction of the carriage, where Bae was disembarking. "What are we to eat, if we're to be held as prisoners here?"

"The kitchen will be kept fully stocked, but you'll be responsible for figuring out the preparation yourself." With that, the door slammed shut and the carriage resumed moving along the road towards the castle, leaving the beleaguered duo standing together by the roadside, shellshocked.

"I suppose we may as well go in," Bae stated, and Emma was so beside herself that she could not even come up with a retort.

Inside the cottage they found their belongings, just as Rumplestiltskin had promised. It was a simple dwelling, particularly in comparison to the castles each was used to, but not uncomfortable. In the back corner was a small kitchen area, featuring a solid wood table for seating as well as an ice box that Bae told Emma his father had undoubtedly enchanted to stay perpetually cold. The living space, forward of that, had an upholstered settee and a few high-backed chairs. A door led to a small bedroom with a mid-sized bed, big enough for two... if the two were quite fond of each other.

Poking her head into the bedroom, Emma's eyes widened. "I hope you enjoy sleeping on the settee," she said haughtily, dismissing any notion that the two of them might fit that criteria.

"Yes, it's where I'd always dreamed of spending my wedding night," Bae snarked back.

"As well as all the nights after," she replied. "Unless you can convince your father to procure an additional bed."

He snorted. "Fairly certain that won't be happening. Don't you see what he's doing? His hope is that he will force us together, and I will be SO grateful for bringing me such happiness that I will forgive him his past wrongs."

"Unfortunately for the both of you, that will not be happening."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he replied. "Spoiled princesses are not my style."

"Spoiled!" she spat. "Well, I never!" She fumed for a minute as she worked to formulate a comeback. "At least I didn't have to have my father threaten someone's life to marry me off."

"Do you sincerely think I was behind this, princess? _Believe me_, this is all my father's doing. I didn't ask for it and I didn't want it any more than you did."

"A likely story! Oh, poor son of the dark one, being forced to marry a princess. Somehow I am hard-pressed to believe that, _sir_," she mocked him.

"Whether you believe it or not, I did not choose this any more than you did. _Trust_ me, if I had I would have chosen a different bride." He sighed, the argument growing old. "Regardless of whether we want to be here, we are both stuck here, so we may as well get used to it and figure out how to co-exist."

"What do you mean, 'stuck here'?"

"Undoubtedly your instinct was right and my father has put up some sort of barrier spell, meaning that we are both effectively prisoners here."

Emma let out a frustrated growl and stomped her foot. "That man is insufferable! Where does he get off manipulating peoples' lives like this? What did your mother see in him, anyways?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"What?" she replied, stopping short at an answer she had not expected.

He gestured at the space around them. "You'll note she's not here."

"Oh." Emma quieted, bested for once. "My apologies."

He shrugged indifferently. "It's been a long time."

The two then lapsed into a silence that was at least not entirely uncomfortable, one that persisted throughout the evening with few interruptions as they padded around the cottage organizing their possessions. The silence was perhaps the best foot either had to put forward after the trials of the prior two days, passing as an attempt at civility - and for the moment, that was the most either could ask for.

Unbeknownst to the young couple, the duo in the castle across the kingdom had spent their day in much less silence, scheming and planning as they plotted ways to make their goals a reality. The effect that these two strangers would come to have on the lives of the young couple would be enormous - and if only the couple had known, they might have found it worth their time to put aside their differences to make some plans of their own.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks as always to my most excellent beta! :)**

* * *

"Cora," a voice called, causing the royal known as the Queen of Hearts to look up from where she sat. Her posture was pristine despite being captivated by her work, and although she shifted her gaze to the newcomer, Cora did not rise. Instead she stared for a moment, watching him from her seat at the desk in the room she'd commandeered as her own. Finally, she sent a calculated smile toward the leather-clad companion with whom she'd formed a tentative alliance many years prior.

"My dear pirate," she said. "I trust your rest was a pleasant one?"

"I'd never known eighteen years could fly by so effortlessly," Hook replied. "But to the point - we've lost nearly two decades and I'm anxious to resume the task at hand. What, precisely, needs to occur so that I can skin my crocodile?"

"Still not one to waste any time, I see." Cora continued speaking as she stood and advanced towards where he waited in the doorway. "The plan remains as it was - you help me to win my daughter's love once again and I will help you to kill Rumpelstiltskin."

The pirate's brow furrowed. "Is it truly necessary to further postpone his demise? I've waited long enough already!"

Cora shrugged in response, her expression devoid of sympathy. "You're welcome to set off on your own, but I think you'll find your quest rather fruitless without something to counteract his magic, hmm?"

Hook let out his displeasure in a huff, but his lack of argument let on that he conceded her point. "Can you at least tell me, then, why is it that we had to wait eighteen years for the execution of this plan? The last thing I recall is that you told me there would be a delay - we appeared here in your daughter's castle and shortly after that, everything went black."

"Because, dear pirate, I needed my daughter to _need_ me. I expected that to happen once her curse broke. Instead it failed to be cast - and she's now spent eighteen years in captivity. After all of that time, I'm certain she will be desperate to exact her vengeance on Snow White - desperate to see her lose something that is precious to her."

Cora sized up her reluctant accomplice before continuing. "Many years ago, Rumplestiltskin cast a spell that prevents Regina from killing Snow or her precious Prince in this land. That same spell covered their daughter, but only until she reached adulthood. Now that she has come of age, killing _her_ should be child's play. And if I can assist in that endeavor, help her to cause Snow pain as Snow has caused her, then surely my daughter will love me once more."

"A cunning plan, to be sure. How do you plan to kill this princess?"

A slow smile spread across the royal's face, her regal exterior hiding her thinly veiled sinister motivations. "I want to allow Regina to crush her heart. Surely she'll want to be there to see the look on Snow's face as she watches the life drain from her precious daughter."

"And where is my part in all of this?" he asked, skepticism not laid entirely to rest. "Why do you feel it imperative to keep me around?"

"You serve as the backup plan, my dear. Should the royals be clued in to my intentions, you would remain as an entity unknown to them - and that I can use to my advantage."

Hook nodded slowly, turning the plan over in his mind. "And once you've relished your victory..."

"I will help you to skin your croc," she replied, grace lining her voice - as if this promise should be looked upon as an enormous gift.

A broad grin overtook his face as the anticipation of his desired goal eclipsed the trials that would be necessary to achieve it. "Excellent," he replied, turning to leave. Two steps into his departure, he turned back to face her, a thought occurring to him. "Is your daughter not kept prisoner in the cell that they created to hold the Dark One?"

Cora laughed, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little face over that. The magic woven into that cell might hold her for now, but it's no match for what I have in store. In the end, it wasn't strong enough to hold Rumplestiltskin. Once I'm finished with it, it won't be strong enough to hold Regina, either."

* * *

Bae entered the cottage, fresh off of a walk to take in the crisp autumn afternoon. He found that the sound of the door opening had caused Emma to look up from her reading, and as he slid off his boots, she continued her quiet observation. Taking advantage of her attention, he broached the subject at hand. "I ran into my father while I was out."

"Mmhm?"

"He asked us to dinner."

"Please give him my regrets when you join him," Emma replied primly, her effort to be polite doing little to mitigate the coldness in her statement.

He let out a heavy sigh, weary of the argument that was sure to ensue before it had even begun. "Unfortunately it is not a request."

"What will happen if we choose not to attend?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she sat forward in her chair, looking for a challenge.

Bae closed his eyes, rubbing a finger across the bridge of his nose as he attempted to conjure up the fortitude necessary to keep the conversation on an even keel. "Do you really want to find out?" he asked, watching his bride's eyes light up in response - as if she was going to affirm that notion. Jumping to speak again before she could do so, he continued. "Trust me - you don't. It's not worth it. He's only asking for a single dinner, and while of course the conversation will be grating, the food is at least sure to be excellent." She arched an eyebrow in disbelief and he rushed to conclude his argument, offering the only thing that he thought might suffice as motivation for her. "Furthermore, he'll be much more likely to loosen the reigns if he perceives us as cooperative."

"I do not want to be one of your father's pawns," Emma protested, folding her arms across her chest as she lifted her chin in the air.

"But you already are, Princess," Bae snapped, temper gaining a small victory over patience as he wondered if perhaps she was protesting merely for the sake of being argumentative. "Or have you forgotten that you are living miles from your home, married to someone you barely know?"

"I could never forget such a vile circumstance."

"Then surely a dinner with the Dark One pales in comparison." Her lack of retort - aside from a glare - indicated to him that he had won the battle, though undoubtedly not the war. "We depart in a quarter hour."

* * *

The stroll to the castle would have been a pleasant one, had the company been more pleasurable - or even capable of speaking in civil terms. As it happened, the beautiful fall day was ignored in favor of tense silence as the duo walked at a clipped pace, anxious to shorten their evening as much as possible. Arriving at the castle door, they watched as it swung inward of its own accord, leaving Emma to wonder whether such an opening was routine - or if it indicated that Rumplestiltskin had kept a close eye out for their arrival.

Bae walked in confidently, having called the Dark Castle his home - albeit grudgingly - until a few days prior. Emma, on the other hand, held her head high but lagged a bit behind him, the castle's foreboding presence providing an ever-so-slight rattle to her nerves. She found herself walking millimeters closer to Bae, his presence the lesser of the frightening circumstances surrounding her, though she would have denied it vehemently if asked.

They entered the great hall to find Rumplestiltskin reclining in his chair at the head of the long table that sat centered in the room. "Well there are the lovebirds," he greeted them, patronizingly tapping his steepled fingers together. The duo in question responded with twin glares as he continued talking. "Have a seat, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chairs on either side of the table. "Dinner will be out momentarily."

Wordlessly, Emma and Bae found their seats, their silence persisting as they waited for their food. "Are you finding your accommodations acceptable?" he asked, making an attempt to draw them into conversation.

"Not in the least," Emma replied crossly.

"Well whyever not?" Rumplestiltskin demanded, clearly annoyed by her less-than-positive response. "I've provided you with the finest things available on this side of the kingdom, so what could possibly be the problem?"

Emma snorted and shot him a look of disdain. "There is a significant lack of sleeping space in the cottage."

"Oh, that," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Well, you _are_ married."

"Not _that_ married!" she shot back. "He's still a stranger to me."

Rumplestiltskin moved his gaze to the other side of the table. "Bae, have you nothing to say for yourself?" Bae met his gaze silently, refusing to acknowledge the question with a response, so his father continued on. "Baelfire, you shall not let this girl trod all over you."

"I was raised to behave respectfully towards women," he replied carefully. "Or has it been so long that you've forgotten, Papa?"

At this, Rumplestiltskin's temper flared, backed into a corner by his son. "Of course not," he snapped. "I was not implying that you disrespect her."

"No? Then how else would you have me exert my rightful place as her husband, when it's a role I've been placed in under duress? She's right - I'm a stranger to her. I shall not require a young woman to share her bed with a complete stranger."

"Yes, yes," he conceded with a hand wave, and Bae thought that perhaps he'd made his point as the conversation lapsed into a lull. Moments later, however, his father continued, pressing the point once again. "But you're her _husband_."

Bae's brow furrowed, his frustration with the conversation causing his tone to turn stern. "In name only, Papa," he said, his fingertips tapping the table for emphasis as he stressed each word. "You may have been able to force us to wed, but what happens within that marriage is strictly up to us. Is that understood?" Bae held his father's gaze unblinkingly, almost as if he was afraid to breathe while he waited to see if the stalemate would be broken.

Rumplestiltskin made a noise to protest before realizing he that he'd been bested by his son and allowing it to putter out, the retort fading on his lips. This plan to win his son's gratitude - and heart - was verging further and further off course and arguing with Bae would not gain him any ground.

Luckily for the trio, the silent glares that they lapsed back into were interrupted by a maid entering with the supper cart.

"Roast lamb with spiced apples, m'lord," Clara said with a curtsey as she placed a dish at each setting, removing the covers as she went. Emma and Bae each thanked her politely and she promptly retreated to the safety of the kitchen.

Bae took immediately to the task of eating his dinner, but when he looked up he found his bride gingerly sorting through the meal with her fork. She'd formed a neat pile of apple slices off to one side of the plate, cautiously picking through the remainder of the dish as if to ensure that she hadn't missed any.

"Are you accustomed to rejecting portions of your meal, Princess?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he attempted to discern precisely what she was doing.

"Hardly," she replied offhandedly, providing no further explanation as she continued the examination of her dish.

"I see. Then you must feel the fruit is of inferior quality?"

"Not at all," she replied, pausing in her task to challenge his gaze. "We do not eat apples in my household."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your entire household selectively refuses a fruit?"

"My family has a poor history with it."

Bae narrowly refrained from rolling his eyes as he responded. "In my family, we were raised to be grateful for the food provided to us. Some of us have not been so fortunate as to always live in the lap of luxury."

"Refusal to eat one particular food does not equal ingratitude!" she exclaimed, dropping her fork and pitching forward in her chair as the threadbare binds that restrained her temper began to fray.

"Enough!" Rumplestiltskin roared, interrupting their squabble. "I shall have none of this at my dinner table! Eat your dinners or let yourselves starve, I don't really care - but quit this endless bickering!"

Both of the young people glared at him but did as he requested and resumed eating their meals in silence. The minutes ticked past uncomfortably until all three had finished eating and Clara reappeared from the kitchen to collect their dishes.

She replaced their dinner plates with dessert ones, each filled with a heaping spoonful of peach cobbler. "Thank you, dear Clara," Emma said as the plate was placed in front of her, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed the expression on Rumplestiltskin's face go sour.

"Why is it," he snapped as soon as Clara had left the hall, "that you can be kind to the help, yet insist upon being nasty to those you should now consider family?"

"Family?" Emma asked incredulously. "Hardly! Dear Clara has done nothing but show kindness to us this evening. Meanwhile you claim to be family but keep your son and I trapped as prisoners. Perhaps if you showed us the same hospitality your 'help' has offered, I would exhibit the same kindness towards you."

The elder man's temper began to flare. "I have done nothing but show you hospitality! You've been given your own home -"

"-and been kept a prisoner in it," Emma interjected.

"I told you no such thing!" he snapped in response.

"You didn't need to," she replied pointedly. "Your son has informed me that surely you have placed spells around the property to prevent escape."

He chuckled, amused by Bae's assumption. "And did he tell you why such spells might be necessary?"

A put-out expression accompanied Emma's reply. "Surely if you feel we are mature enough to marry we must be mature enough to govern our own travels!"

Rumplestiltskin stared at her a moment, once again tapping his long fingers together as he considered how to best diffuse the situation. "All right," he began, "I can offer you this. You may have free reign to travel as you wish, _so long as_ you return to your husband by nightfall."

She eyed him skeptically, sparing a quick look towards the young man seated across the table from her. "And Baelfire may leave as well?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Bae may leave the grounds, but he must be accompanied by either you or myself."

"Papa-" he began to protest, but Rumplestiltskin lifted a finger to silence him.

"Ah ah, Bae, those are the terms. Now, will you accept them, or shall we return to the confines of the grounds?"

He looked back across the table at Emma, catching her eye. Their conversation was wordless, but for the first time civil, and a small nod constituted agreement. Bae turned back to his father and replied, "Yes, Papa. We will accept them."

* * *

Dinner at the Charmings' was a far more somber affair. In an effort to retain some sense of normalcy, the day had been much like any other Monday; evaluations of the needs of the kingdom, overseeing the staff, setting the schedule for the week. But evenings were typically when the small family reconvened, and so it was at dinnertime that the full weight of Emma's absence was finally felt. Her parents were accustomed to being regaled with tales of her various adventures and scrapes - because with Emma, there were _always_ scrapes - and the absence of her chatter made for a deafening silence.

They sat at the small table in the nook off of the kitchen, wordless except to thank their cook as she brought in a tureen of soup. Charming captured some noodles and broth with the ladle, scooping them into a bowl and passing them to Snow, seated at his right. She began to swirl the liquid with her spoon as he repeated the process for himself, finding herself absentmindedly stirring while her thoughts overwhelmed her, bogged down by the weight of the silence.

"Do you think she's doing all right?" she finally asked, eyes flickering up from her bowl to rest on her husband.

His response was the tiniest rise and fall of his shoulders, likely imperceivable to anyone who hadn't spent the last two decades married to him. "Impossible to know."

"We should have prepared her better," Snow said, shoulders slumping in defeat. "We should have let her know what to expect."

"No, we should never have agreed to this in the first place," he replied, frustration bubbling to the surface. "We never should have allowed her to be put into this position. Our job as her parents was to protect her, and we failed."

"Charming," his wife replied gently, covering his hand with hers, "There was no good choice. You know that - you _know_ our options were impossible."

"We should have found another way!" he exclaimed, voice rising to a shout as he lost control of his emotions and slammed a hand down on the table, causing Snow to jump. "You of all people know that," he continued, looking to her eyes as his voice dropped to a normal volume. "There is _always_ another way, and we didn't take the time to find it. We allowed ourselves to be deluded into thinking that this wouldn't come to pass, and it's Emma who paid the price. We failed her, Snow," he finished, his voice finally breaking with emotion. "We've failed her, and I don't know how to help her now."

* * *

The remainder of Emma &amp; Bae's dinner passed in relative peace, and the walk back from the castle was incrementally more pleasant than their outbound stroll had been. Shortly before they arrived back at the cottage, Bae broke the silence as he posed a question. "Princess Emma... may I ask you something?"

Shooting him a sidelong glance, her response was far less polite than his request. "I've no doubt that you'll ask regardless of whether I give my permission."

Bae sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her continued impertinence. "If that were true, would I have requested permission first?"

She grumbled before responding, conceding his point with her lack of argument. "What is it that you'd like to know?"

He paused in his steps to turn towards her, tilting his head as he carefully studied her. "Why did you advocate for me back there?"

"At dinner?" she replied, puzzled.

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "With my father."

"Did I?" she asked, squinting as she ran back through her memories of the meal and tried to recall what he was referring to.

He looked at the ground, suddenly fascinated by the spot he'd begun to scuff into the dirt with the toe of his boot while he waited for her memory to kick in. Feeling self-conscious that he'd called attention to an incident she didn't even remember, he refined his question. "Perhaps advocate is too strong a word. You'd secured freedom of movement for yourself - and yet you pressed to include me as well."

She shrugged dismissively. "I felt that presenting a united front was important. He's more likely to agree to what we ask for if it's you and I working as a team than he is if we both come at him separately. I may not have been the most attentive student to my lessons, but I did at least pick up that key piece of negotiating."

Bae let out a mirthless laugh, finding himself slightly deflated by her response. "Ah, so indeed it was not altruistic."

"Nor was it unfeeling," she replied, sending him the slightest of smiles. "This is a punishment we share jointly. How heartless would it be to barter for my freedom alone? Besides, you told me last night that you're as much of a pawn in this as I am." She began to walk again, considering for a moment as her curiosity got the best of her. "What did he threaten you with, anyways?"

"The death of your parents."

Emma's eyes grew wide as she took a moment to digest this information before responding with a most unladylike snort. "I see. You expect me to believe that you were 'forced' to marry me under duress of your father killing two people you don't even know."

Bae drew back, surprised at her callous attitude. "Listen Princess, I don't know how it works up in your castle, but down here on the ground I find value in not having innocent people murdered."

"So you agreed to marry me." Her statement remained accusatory, angry, yet there was something in her tone that told him that her disbelief was starting to wither, and so he pressed on.

"Those were the options I was given." He shrugged, stepping forward to open the door as they reached the threshold of the cottage before gesturing for her to enter. "If I didn't, the deal would be broken and he would kill them."

"He wouldn't have relented if you'd asked him to?" she asked, stepping through the doorway and turning back to face him once he'd shut the door.

Bae pushed out an exasperated breath, growing weary of the princess' distrust. "My papa's curse turned him into a monster. The years seem to have tamed him, but I've seen him do worse to people for far lesser transgressions - even over my objections."

"Worse than death?"

"In a manner of speaking. He turned a man into a snail because I chased a ball in front of his cart and skinned my knee."

"Goodness," she replied, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and settling herself onto it sideways even as she remained drawn into his story.

"And then I watched as that monster crushed the snail beneath his boot."

"But... the injury was due to your recklessness, not his!"

"Precisely my point," he said in agreement, tugging his boots off and tossing them into the corner before finding his own seat across from her. "All of that for a skinned knee - so what fate might befall your parents with a broken deal of this magnitude?"

She found herself without a rebuttal to this, and after a few moments finally responded by telling him, "I'm impressed that you'd be willing to sacrifice your own happiness in order to save someone else."

Unfortunately, her habit of sarcasm had conditioned him to assume the worst, causing him to interpret her words as an insult and fire back. "I'm sorry that you think so low of me."

"What?" she replied. "I complimented you! You did a brave and selfless thing to save my parents, and for that I will be eternally grateful."

Bae narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if he was being mocked before allowing her the benefit of the doubt. "It was the honorable thing to do," he replied genuinely. "And I'm deeply sorry that your family was drawn into this twisted game."

"It's not your fault," she replied, surprising him. "If you're a pawn in this as much as me... the best we can hope to do is navigate it together."

"It would be nice to have a comrade in arms," he replied with a small nod. "When my father told me that he'd be marrying me off, I had no delusions that it would be idyllic... though I did hope there was a chance that I'd find a friend." The duo stared at each other for a moment, each contemplating their apparent truce, before Bae continued with a sigh. "I don't know why he thought forcing me into a marriage would win my affections. Particularly given what happened with his own."

"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Emma asked, slinging an arm over the back of the chair as she made herself comfortable, preparing for his story with interest.

Bae chuckled, a wry, sardonic sort of chuckle. "In short? My mother ran off with a pirate."

A short, sharp laugh was Emma's response, amusement lighting up her eyes. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh but... goodness!" She shook her head, then, looking down to study the table as some unspoken thought crossed her mind. Bae could see the corner of her mouth twitch up in the slightest of smiles before she finally met his gaze, carefully watching him - as if measuring his response - when she continued. "Well, Baelfire, there's not a lot I can promise you about this union - but at the barest of minimums, you have my word that I won't run off with a pirate."

He chuckled again, authentically this time, before replying. "Well then... at least we'll have that." He spent a few minutes sketching out the barest of details about his parents' union, telling Emma that he knew it had been an arranged marriage, but that - according to his father - in the early years it was not unhappy. The little Bae remembered, on the other hand, was the very definition of unhappy, and by the time the pirate came along it shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone that his mother was more than happy to abandon her home life in search of adventure. "Of course, it was years before I found out what had truly happened," he finished, his vague words accompanied by a shake of his head. "At the time, I was told she'd been killed."

"Hm," Emma replied noncommittally, leaving Bae to wonder what thoughts were running through her mind. "Forcing us into the same situation does sound a peculiar choice, given all of that."

"Well, my father's a peculiar man," he replied, and it was Emma's turn to chuckle at the truth of the statement.

A moment passed before she let out a yawn. "I should probably head to bed," she said, eyes darting toward the makeshift pile of blankets Bae had cobbled together the previous evening as she rose from her seat at the table. "Sorry about the settee," she continued, regret evident in her voice. "It's just..."

"It wouldn't be right," he said, nodding in understanding. "Good night, Princess," he said, watching her as she retreated into the bedchamber.

"Night," she replied, sliding the door shut behind her.

And as Bae tucked himself into the down-filled cocoon he'd amassed, a buffer from the cushions and wooden scrollwork that hit him in all of the wrong places, he felt the first glimmer of hope he'd experienced in a very long time. The marriage wouldn't be idyllic, no - but perhaps there was hope for a friendship yet.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the long waits between chapters, guys. I'm doing my best! Despite that, I hope someone is still reading (and enjoying.) Let me know! :)

-DSB

* * *

"Papa, NO!"

Emma's eyes popped open, a vague notion in the back of her head that she'd been awoken by a shout. She lay still for a minute, listening for further commotion as she worked to still her breathing and slow her jumping heart - unfortunate side effects of having been startled awake. As her eyes adjusted to the murky blackness, shapes filtered into focus and she took bearing of her surroundings. Groaning internally, she recalled that she was no longer in the comfortable familiarity of her own room. Instead, she found herself waking in the too-small bed that lay in the cottage she'd been bequeathed after her sudden nuptials.

A strangled cry from the front room caused her to shoot up in bed. "Please, Papa! No!" she heard, in a voice she was surprised to find she easily identified as that of her new husband. She had no idea why he was hollering at his father in the middle of the night. Had it not interrupted her sleep, it's possible she wouldn't have cared. But the fact that he was hollering at all meant that his father had felt it was appropriate to pay them a visit in the middle of the night - and for that, he'd earned a piece of her mind. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, anger rising by the moment as she shoved her arms into her dressing gown and contemplated her approach to the situation. Hastily tying the sash, she stalked through the bedroom door - only to stop short in surprise at what she found on the other side.

Dark. Silence. And no father-in-law. Only Baelfire, feet and ankles jutting awkwardly off the end of his makeshift bed. She stood still for a moment, doused in confusion as she tried to discern what had happened. Perhaps she'd dreamt it?

Her attention was drawn back into the room when she heard a whimper from the direction of the settee. As her eyes landed on the boy sleeping there, he cried out once more. "Papa! No, papa, please!"

Ah, a nightmare. That made ever so much more sense than a midnight visit, at least. Her anger and confusion evaporated as a sense of familiarity descended in their place - nightmares being a familiar foe. As far back as she could recall, her memories included her mother's cries piercing the darkness. Though they'd grown sparse as the years had passed, her father's steady reassurances remained always at the ready - a calm hand, soft voice, and lit candle his recipe for vanquishing the terror that crept into her mother's dreams.

She found herself moving towards the couch, instinct overriding logic as she crouched next to the wooden armrest that framed Baelfire's head. Though she lacked the emotional ties with him that bound her parents, she wasn't about to leave the boy fighting invisible demons on his own - particularly after what he'd shared about his father the prior night. Shuddering as she recalled the story, she found that she wasn't at all envious of whatever horrors he was reliving. Though he remained asleep, his slumber was restless, punctuated with periodic twitching and the occasional whimper. Taking a cue from her father, she reached out, gingerly placing a hand on the top of his head. Whispering, she continued in her attempt to comfort him. "Shh, shh. It's okay. You're okay."

It took several moments and a few more murmurs, but the reassurance seemed to work to pull him out of the nightmare - little by little his twitching stopped and his ragged breathing grew regular. She continued to crouch awkwardly for a few minutes longer, finally lifting her hand from his head when the protests from her legs grew too loud to ignore. Easing herself into a standing position, she kept her eyes glued to her charge as she watched for a relapse. When none presented itself, she started for the bedroom, satisfied that he had returned to peaceful slumber. On her way, she lit the candle that sat on the nearest end table, willing the bad dreams to be drawn in - as if they were insects being consumed by the flame.

As she tucked the duvet up to her chin, however, she found herself falling into thoughts instead of dreams. When Rumplestiltskin showed up to demand the marriage, she'd accused him of passing horrors along to his child. Somehow, though, she'd expected those horrors to present themselves as a son who had followed in his father's footsteps, terrorizing those around him. Apprentice to the master manipulator of the Enchanted Forest, perhaps. She'd never imagined that he, too, would have been a victim of the schemes and abuse that the Dark One seemed so fond of doling out. But it seemed his distaste for those who did not instantly fall in line with his whims was not precluded by blood ties, as falling victim to those schemes seemed to be precisely what had occurred to the boy. Emma was left wondering what else he'd experienced in a lifetime of having a monster for a father. Moreover, these mysteries were causing significant difficulty in stuffing Baelfire into the tidy boxes she'd expected to fit him into.

Lost in her thoughts, it wasn't long before Emma noticed the first glow of the morning's light beginning to percolate through the curtains. With a sigh, she gave up all aspirations of sleep, instead padding out once again into the common room. She began rummaging through the cupboards that lined the far corner, in search of something suitable for a morning meal. She'd noticed some bacon in the icebox, but cooking it was out of the question - unless she wanted it burnt to a crisp, taking the cottage down along with it. She'd have to find out if Baelfire's culinary skills were more refined than her own, but in the meantime, she'd located an orange, a croissant and some butter: a balanced breakfast without the risk of burning down the house.

She'd barely finished buttering the roll before she felt eyes upon her. She'd tried to keep her rummaging soft, but either she was noisier than she'd anticipated or Baelfire was a light sleeper. In any event, she looked up from her plate to find him squinting in her direction.

"Why're you up so early?" he slurred, clearly still partially wrapped in slumber.

She shrugged. Somehow, 'Your nightmare woke me, and then I was kept up imagining the evils your father has subjected you to' didn't seem quite the right thing to say. Instead, she settled on the simpler, "Couldn't sleep."

"All kinds of new noises sleeping in an unfamiliar place, I suppose."

"Something like that," she replied, suddenly self-conscious about their awkward middle-of-the-night encounter. She studied her pastry intently, as if concentrating on its preparation might save her from the strangeness of the situation. Hearing him rise from his sleeping spot, she tossed another glance his direction, watching as he shrugged an afghan around his shoulders and shuffled across the hardwood towards the icebox.

"There's bacon," he said. "You didn't want any?"

"Wanted the cottage to stay standing," Emma rebutted, mouth full of bread. She swallowed before continuing. "I'm a terrible cook. Burn everything I touch."

The admission made him chuckle. "I suppose princesses with waitstaff have little need." She shot a glare his direction, prepared to deliver a biting retort, but there was no malice in his tone. Besides, his point was accurate.

"Mm-mm," she replied with a shake of the head. "Do you fare any better?"

"Unfortunately not," he replied. "Limited experience. Perhaps we can sweet talk Clara into frying it for us later." Performing the same cabinet search Emma had, he came up with a couple of plums and a croissant of his own. As he joined her at the table, she slid the butter dish his direction and he gave a nod of thanksgiving.

"Plans today?" he asked, slicing the bread as he spoke.

"Since your father has deigned that we might leave the grounds, I thought I might go visit my parents. They're certain to be concerned about me."

"Sounds reasonable. Enjoy your visit," he replied, gaze fixed on his breakfast.

Biting her lip, Emma pressed forward with a hesitant question. "I do have just one problem that I was hoping you might be able to assist with."

This caught his attention, and he lowered his knife as he met her gaze. "What might that be?"

"Is there a horse I might be able to take?"

Bae chuckled, resuming his motions. "You'd have to ask my father about that."

This response caused her to scowl. "You can't just point me in the direction of the stables?"

"Not unless you want your travels waylaid by a magical reprimand." He kept his eyes trained on her as she hemmed and hawed, debating whether the discomfort of the request would be outweighed by the joy of seeing her family. "Listen, just walk up the hill and ask him. He'll bluster about pretty well but he won't bring you any harm. I'm sure he'll allow you a horse in the end."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What makes you so sure he'll do me no harm?"

"Bear in mind that his end goal is to win my affections, and harming you would not serve to endear me to him. I've no question he'll grant your request."

"I suppose," she replied grudgingly, placing her dishes in the sink - would they be magically cleaned, she wondered, or was dishwashing an expected duty of the household? - and retreating to the bedroom to dress.

Minutes later, she tugged on her boots over the sensible riding trousers Bae had been surprised to find she owned. He watched as she squared her shoulders before heading out the door, and barely bit back an amused smile - she looked to be preparing for battle already, yet his father's house was a solid fifteen minute walk away.

He was left watching as she departed without so much as a goodbye, contemplating his plans for the day - none - and wondering if his father yet regretted his choice of daughter in law.

* * *

Emma approached the doors of the dark castle as she had when arriving for dinner, but this time they remained closed. She raised her arm to rap on the oak in front of her, but before she could make contact, the door swung away to reveal Rumplestiltskin standing in her path.

"Oh, come in, come in - I do find this knocking business annoying," he said, sweeping his cloak around as he circled back towards the great hall.

Emma entered, bravado of a quarter-hour having dimmed despite the fact that she still held her chin high. "I've come to inquire about a horse."

"A horse?" he replied, turning back to face her, as if the question had taken him by surprise.

"Yes. I'd like to go visit my family and your son indicated that you might allow me to use a horse for my travels."

"I see." The two stared at each other for a long moment, leaving Emma to wonder what madness was running through the sorcerer's mind. Finally, as she was beginning to grow concerned that he might be preparing to turn her into a toad, Rumplestiltskin broke the stalemate when he spoke again.

"Very well. The stables are half a mile due north, you may take your pick. I assume you are capable of tacking up a horse?"

"Of course," Emma replied indignantly. Satisfied that she'd gotten what she came for, she turned away with no further ado. But as she stepped towards the door, she found Rumplestiltiskin standing in her path once again. Annoyance written all over his face, he addressed her again.

"You might show some gratitude."

She stumbled - surely he hadn't been standing there a moment earlier! - and attempted to cover her surprise by matching his look with one of her own. "Gratitude for allowing me to have a visit to the family you so callously ripped me away from?"

"Whether or not you visit your family is none of my concern, but as I am allowing you to utilize my property, a simple thank you would not be unreasonable." He paused, letting his point resonate for a moment. "Or did your parents believe that manners were beyond your royal status?"

She stared him down, holding his gaze a moment longer than necessary - in hopes of showing that she would not be so easy to frighten - before retorting. "My parents raised me to believe that I should show gratitude for a kindness. Therefore I shall pretend that this gesture is a kindness, and I will thank you for the loan of the horse."

He narrowed his eyes, likely debating whether continuing to engage his young ward was worthy of his time. Deciding that it was not, he dismissed her with a flourish of his hand, stepping out of her way as he gestured towards the opening door. "Very well then. Off you go!"

Emma gave a sharp nod and departed, conscious of keeping her head held high until she heard the door slam shut behind her. It was only when she was partway down the path towards the stables that she allowed herself to shudder. She refused to cower before her unfortunate father-in-law, but without his presence to motivate the facade, hiding her true feelings was a futile effort.

* * *

Snow penned the final words of the note, her inked quill setting fancy flourishes across the parchment. Folding the letter, she applied a seal and stood, gently waving the document so as to set the wax while she headed toward the door of her study.

In the hall she found her page, awaiting the errand she'd told him to expect. "Please take this to Sir Edward at the stables. Let him know it should be taken to the village magistrate at his earliest convenience." The page nodded and scampered for the door, pulling his shawl around him as he went.

The local village - Northpass by name, though few referred to it as such - flourished, largely due to its proximity to the castle where the kingdom's rulers lived. It was that proximity that led Snow and Charming to oversee many of the village's quarrels; they'd long strived to be accessible to their people and though it was impossible for them to rule so closely in all corners of the kingdom, they tried to set examples that their noblemen could mimic in the further reaches.

Glancing out the door after the page, she happened to spot a figure on horseback galloping toward the castle. She turned away, prepared to return to her study - figures on horseback not being terribly out of the ordinary - until she processed the long blonde hair trailing behind the rider. Long blonde hair that looked suspiciously like the blonde she'd seen nearly every day for the last eighteen years of her life. Turning back, she stared for a moment, a grin finally lighting her face as it became unmistakable that the rider was none other than her own daughter.

"Emma!" she cried. Motherly worry overriding regal pretence, she broke into a run, flying down the castle's stone steps and launching herself into the courtyard. Halfway down the pebbled walk she finally slowed - not from lack of motivation but from the simple mathematics that her daughter's mount was gaining ground far more quickly than her own feet. Moments later, Emma halted the steed and dismounted, allowing her mother a few moments of a crushing embrace before she wriggled away.

"Hi Mama," she said, wrapping the horse's reins idly around her hand as she led it to the hitching post nearest the family's entrance to their home. After tethering the animal she turned back to face her mother, who had matched her step-for-step since she'd arrived.

Snow studied her daughter for a long moment, using both hands to brush unruly strands of hair from her face before cupping it in her hands. Later, it would occur to her that Emma was unusually patient through this examination. It was to her fortune that her daughter understood her worry, and Emma was willing to grant her mother a little grace so that it could be assuaged. Finally Snow broke into a grin and once again wrapped Emma in her arms. "You're well!" she declared, and Emma fought back a chuckle at the surprise evident in her voice.

"As much so as the last time you saw me," Emma replied, briefly returning the hug. "Shall we go inside? I'd hoped to catch up."

Snow nodded enthusiastically, grasping Emma's hand and dragging her along into the study she'd so recently vacated. Crossing the threshold, she was flooded with memories - rocking Emma's cradle with her foot while she composed treaties, finding her hiding under the desk during games of hide-and-seek, sitting side-by-side on the couch while teaching her letters. Her daughter popping around the corner with a hesitant, "Mama?" was always a welcome interruption to whatever work she was embroiled in. But entering with her now was a harsh reminder that those days were finished - her daughter was a married woman and her place was no longer by her mother's side. As they settled into their habitual spots, tucked into opposing corners of the plush lounge, she looked on her daughter with a bittersweet fondness, realization setting in that she wasn't such a little girl anymore.

"What of the kingdom since I've been gone?" Emma asked, earning a scowl from her mother.

"You're asking about the kingdom? What of you?" Snow replied. "You're the one who was spirited away by Rumplestiltskin! Has he provided you with acceptable accommodations? Do I need to send your father to set matters straight?"

"Oh! Where is Daddy? I've missed him!" Emma exclaimed, taking an innocent air as she looked around in search of the father she knew well wasn't in the study.

"Your father is in a council meeting. Don't change the subject, young lady," Snow replied in a warning tone, her scowl deepening. "Have you been mistreated? What of this son he's tied you to?"

Emma chuckled. "I'm fine, Mama. He's put us up in a cottage on the grounds and-"

"He's left you alone with the boy?" she asked, horrified.

"As everyone is so wont to remind me, we _are_ married." Emma shrugged, shifting in her seat as she continued. "You've nothing to worry about, he's behaved as a perfect gentleman - taken the settee without complaint. Poor chap. Seems to think his father has set his sights on our marriage blossoming, in turn causing Baelfire to be indebted to him. He's pretty well convinced that if we just play along with him, we can wait him out. Get him to see that we won't be having an epic love story and convince him to call the whole thing off, you know?"

"I don't like it, Emma. Attempting to outwit that man is like playing with fire."

"What are my options, Mama? Refuse to return? Continue to raise rabble? Any actions I take result in less favorable consequences. As it stands now, you and Daddy are safe, I am safe, and Baelfire and I have called a truce. We'll just sit on the matter for a while and hope he comes around once he sees that it is only driving his son further away."

"And what happens when he doesn't, Emma?"

Emma sighed. "Then I suppose we'll have to find the boy a larger settee, won't we." She let the statement hang in the air for a moment, definitive in its tone. Snow wasn't thrilled at her daughter's unwillingness to negotiate an escape route, but she'd clearly made up her mind. Adding that to the fact that her points were valid - the options truly were slim, it's why they'd allowed the marriage in the first place - and she chose not to pursue the matter further. Her attention was drawn back to the conversation as Emma continued, moving their talk in a different direction. "What have I missed since I've been gone?"

"Quite little, actually. The biggest issue has been the land quarrel your father settled last week - one of the farmers has gone back on his word. Your father's meeting with council now do decide how to proceed and I've sent word to the magistrate to request a meeting. Beyond that it's been mundane - setting grain prices for the spring and such."

Their visit went on quite like this, idle chit chat and gossip of the community. Charming - council adjourned for the day - joined them for lunch before heading off to continue work on some project or another. As the time for tea neared, Snow made mention of having it prepared, but Emma - glancing at the horizon outside - rejected the idea.

"I really should be going, Mama. I don't know the route well yet. I'd like to make my way back before nightfall."

"So soon?" Snow asked, her face falling. "Must you really go already?"

"I really should," Emma replied, again casting a glance outside.

"I suppose we'll see you this weekend at the ball, then?"

Emma blinked, having forgotten about it entirely in the chaos surrounding her sudden marriage. "I suppose so," she replied. "I'd like to be there, for Alex."

Snow walked her daughter outside, clinging to her a moment longer than necessary as they hugged goodbye. Emma's reassurance that they would see each other again in a matter of days was enough to calm her, and she gave a smile and a wave as she watched Emma mount her horse. Try as she might, though, she could not stop the tears from pricking at her eyes as she watched her daughter gallop westward and over the horizon.

* * *

Having groomed and stabled the horse, Emma made it to the door of the cottage just as the last beams of light disappeared over the horizon. She flopped onto the nearest chair as soon as she entered, kicking her boots off and flinging them towards the wall. Feet unburdened, she tossed a leg over the armrest, finally coming to rest as a jumble of limbs sprawled every which way, the complete antithesis of ladylike posture.

"If only your subjects could see you now, Princess," Bae quipped, a glint in his eye. He remained seated at the drawing table in the corner - had it been there when she left that morning? - but she was reasonably sure that he was merely teasing her.

"I thought we'd called a truce!" she protested. Narrowly overcoming the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she settled instead for a scowl. "It's been a while since I've ridden that hard, let alone groomed my own horse. I was terrified I'd be late returning! Being rather fond of remaining in my human form, I wasn't about to chance it."

"Fair enough," he replied, stifling a chuckle at her drama. "Did you enjoy your visit with your family?" Bae turned to look at her as he asked the question, and for the briefest of moments, she saw something - envy? longing? sadness? - flash across his face. She tucked the look away to analyze later.

"Indeed," she replied. "My mother was pleased to see me well. I think she was frightened that I'd been used as a human sacrifice or similar." A pause and then, "I reassured her I'd not been mistreated by you. Perhaps you could accompany me sometime. Get to know my parents as I've gotten the opportunity to know yours."

He raised an eyebrow in response, and she once again scowled at him. "I'm serious, Baelfire! I think my mother is still concerned she'll find me done away with in some manner befitting the Dark One. I'd like for them to see that you're not your father." She drew in a breath, biting her lip as she debated her next sentence. "No one is under any illusions about the start of this union, and certainly we both know it is no grand love story, but I'd like to think that there's a possibility that in the long term, we could achieve your goal of friendship. They should see that."

"All right," he conceded. "Perhaps it could be arranged."

The conversation faded to silence as Emma found herself staring into space, contemplating the oddities of her day. Eventually she voiced her thoughts aloud to the air, addressing no one in particular. "It's so strange, you know. Realizing that 'going home' at the end of the day means going away from the only home you've ever known."

Bae grunted a sympathetic reply, and Emma shifted on her chair to look at him. "Is it better, with the proximity? Does it still feel like you're home, staying on the property as you have?"

He stilled in his drawing, sitting quietly for a moment before finally laying his pencil down. Ambling over to the settee, he perched on the arm, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stretched them out in front of him. "That castle wasn't my home any more than this is. In all honesty... it was more like a prison up there, with my father as guard." He sighed. "It's been a very long time since I've had a home."

Emma studied him for a moment, taking note of the sorrow on his face. Torn between pressing for further answers and uncertainty that she wanted them, she found herself wondering again about the strained relationship he had with his father. Ultimately, her curiosity won out. "You weren't raised in the castle?" she asked.

He shook his head. "My father... he wasn't always like this. Long ago he was kind and loving. He didn't used to hurt and manipulate people. But then he changed..." Frowning, he shook his head again, clearing the far-away haze that had risen up in his eyes. "Sometimes there's no home to go back to, so forging forward is the only way to go."

"Perhaps you'll find that peace again someday," she offered, flashing him an encouraging smile.

"Perhaps," he replied, not sounding completely sold on the idea. "For now I'll try to make the best of what we have here. There's food in the pantry, a place to sleep..." He smirked, patting the settee. "It could be a good bit worse."

"Does it sound truly terrible if I say that I'm somewhat comforted by the fact that we're both miserable here?" Emma asked, managing a laugh.

Bae's face lit up in amusement at her question. "Well, they do say that misery loves company."

"I mean... I don't know. It was drilled into my head from such a young age that as heir to the kingdom, I had to be cautious when choosing to marry. Many of my suitors would be out for my crown, you know? Naturally when your father demanded I marry you, I assumed it was for the same reason." She shot him a glance, corner of her mouth threatening a smile as she continued. "Of course, we both know what they say about assumptions."

Emma paused as he delivered the expected chuckle, pleased that he'd taken the joke as she intended. "So in finding out that you're as displeased with the situation as I am... well, it's just a relief, I guess. It's not that I want you to be miserable, but just... things could just be so much worse. It's almost tolerable, if we're both here just waiting out your father's madness, no ulterior motives to be had."

"None on my part, Princess," he confirmed. "As we discussed last night, I agreed because it was the only conscionable decision."

"It's appreciated," she replied, reiterating what she'd told him the prior night.

He paused, seeming to weigh his words before he continued. "If I may... a bit of advice. I've faced some less-than ideal situations, and I've found that life is what you make of it. You can keep fussing about how you wish things were, or you can do the best you can with what you've got."

Emma screwed up her face in displeasure. "You sound like you've been talking to my mother."

Leaning back in his seat, Bae shrugged. "Is she often correct?"

"Yes," Emma replied with a grumpy huff. "To the chagrin of both my father and myself."

"Then perhaps the advice isn't so terrible? Miserable company aside, we're both to be here for a while, so perhaps we should make the best of it."

"And how exactly do you suggest we do that?" she asked, an edge creeping into her tone.

"Interact, a bit, maybe?" he snapped back. Heaving a breath, he tempered his tone as he continued. "Have a conversation with me, instead of breezing past me in silence as you're so wont to do. Like it or not, we're in this together. We may as well rely on each other."

She studied him again, searching for the ulterior motives he'd just assured her were absent. Finding no evidence to the contrary, she nodded slowly. "Fair enough," she replied. "How about if we use tomorrow's breakfast as a start?" Perhaps, she thought, it would even afford them an opportunity to discuss the upcoming ball.

"Sounds reasonable to me," Baelfire said, sending her an easy grin. "Maybe we can even manage the cooking of that bacon."

She laughed in reply, shaking her head at his terrible joke. At least she hoped it was a joke. She certainly hadn't been joking about the fate of the cottage if she attempted it.


	6. Chapter 6

Bae had awoken early, his settee not being conducive to sleeping in. Stumbling into the kitchen, he began digging through the icebox in an attempt to cobble together a filling breakfast. He pulled out the side of bacon and set it on the table behind him, then reached back in to grab a couple of eggs. His hand hovered over the basket and he hesitated - to grab two, or four? The Princess had seemed genuine in her efforts the prior evening, but based on his experiences thus far, she was as likely to show for breakfast as she was to snub him by sleeping until noon.

As if on cue, he heard a voice from behind greeting him with an informal "Morning." Guilt immediately washed over him - she'd given her word, after all. He turned to see Emma emerging from the bedroom, dressed in what he had come to realize was her preferred ensemble of riding pants and a tunic. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd seen her in a dress since they'd left her parents' house. He stowed the thought for later analysis, instead focusing his attention on the girl in question.

He smiled in greeting, holding the eggs up for show and using his hip to nudge the door of the icebox closed. "Thought I'd give it a shot. There's a pan here, the fire's going... we'll need to figure it out sometime. Can't be fruit and bread for every meal."

She raised an eyebrow as she flopped down at the table. "Have you any idea what you're doing?"

"I happened upon Clara frying bacon and eggs once," he replied, meeting her at the table with the pan in his hand. "Bacon first, leave the grease for the eggs. Seems simple enough."

"Until you end up with a burnt outside and cold center," she muttered. Shooting her an offended look, Bae slid the pan onto the hearth. Shaking her head, she clarified. "Sorry. Not you. That was me."

He murmured a response before turning back to the task at hand. Busying himself with the slicing and frying of the meat, he did his best to ignore the eyes he could feel watching him with interest. Minutes ticked by in silence. Finally, out of the blue, Emma addressed him.

"Baelfire?" she began, speaking tentatively enough that it immediately piqued his curiosity. _Tentative_ was not a term he'd use to describe Emma, leaving him to wonder what had run across her mind to cause her to act in such a manner.

"Hmm?" he replied, feigning only light interest in an effort to downplay his curiosity.

"Mama reminded me, when I was home visiting... there's a ball tomorrow night in honor of a dear friend of mine. I... I should probably go." She locked her eyes on him, waiting anxiously for a response.

He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, as he couldn't imagine why she would be asking his permission. She certainly hadn't made it a habit to seek his approval, and he couldn't imagine their tissue-thin friendship would change that. "I've no objection to that. Go, enjoy the time with your friends."

She bit her lip. "It's just... Well, I probably should not go alone."

He turned to face her, involuntarily raising his eyebrow even further. "Are you asking me to accompany you to the ball, Princess?"

She let out a small sigh. "I think it's best. It would be strange for me to show up without my new husband, and besides, I expect it will last beyond nightfall."

Furrowing his brow, he studied her for a moment, considering her request and the logistics of the situation before he continued. "I think the real question here is: How good of an actress are you, Princess Emma?"

"Beg your pardon?" she replied, drawing back.

"You'd like to attend a ball, which I presume will be attended by any number of friends and other royalty - including your parents - right?" She nodded. "I can't imagine it would be wise for word to get out in the kingdom that we were married under duress. So if you bring me along, you'll need to be able to convincingly sell that we are happy newlyweds. Can you manage to pretend you can stand me - for an evening at least?"

"I can stand you just fine," she said as she offered him a small smile, indicative of the progress they'd made over the past few days.

"Not quite the point, Princess," he replied, returning her smile. "Are you going to be able to convince your dearest friends that you married me because you _wanted_ to?"

She opened her mouth as if to reply, hesitating before she closed it again. Pondering for a moment, she made a face before finally replying. "No. Alex will know immediately that something's amiss."

"Even distracted by her own ball?"

"Well... I don't know," she admitted. "She's my dearest friend, but she does tend to get a bit wrapped up in her own world. It's possible, but it would be a stretch."

"Hmm." Bae thought for a moment. "Certainly, you could explain my presence away with illness. Recovering, of course, so your attention is not needed, but ever the loving husband, I did not want you to skip the ball on my account." She shot him a skeptical look in response. "My father's decree, however, is another matter. We could request an exception for the evening..."

"I can't imagine he'd grant it," Emma said, considering how certain Bae had been that he wouldn't alter the deal governing their marriage.

Her question earned a shrug in reply. "It's a trivial enough manner, he may be willing to barter." She scowled, causing him to continue. "Listen, the way I see it, you've three options here. You can skip the ball, attend with me, or ask my father to waive his requirements for the evening."

Bae watched in thinly veiled amusement as she weighed her options. Emma shifted in her chair as she hemmed and hawed, torn between her desire to attend the social gathering and disliking her options to get there. After a few moments of observing her indecisiveness, Bae's patience began to wane and he piped up again. "Listen, if you'd like to ask him, I'll go up the hill with you."

"Will you?" she asked, face brightening at the prospect of having an ally in her request.

"It's no trouble," he replied, beginning to search for his shoes. "It can't hurt to ask. Worst he can do is say no. Well, and yell a bit, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff. "_That's_ the worst?"

"Fair enough," he acknowledged. "He _could_ do far worse, but it's the worst he will do in this circumstance. C'mon," he said, extending a hand to help her out of her chair. "I'll walk you up there and make sure of it."

Emma, making no move to stand, allowed a small smile to overtake her face. "Baelfire?"

"What?"

"The bacon."

He flew to the stove, colorful language leaping from his mouth. Emma suppressed a giggle, watching as he muttered under his breath and yanked the skillet off of the stove. Setting it to the side, he stabbed at the bacon, dropping several pieces in his haste to lift it out of the grease. By this time, Emma could not contain her laughter.

"I thought it would be a simple task," she said, grinning, a teasing glint in her eye.

Bae gave a sheepish shrug as he slid the plate onto the table and turned back to the stove, hoping for better luck with the eggs. "I neglected to factor in distractions."

"It's all right," Emma replied, snatching a piece from the plate. "I like my bacon on the crispy side anyways."

Bae shook his head, grateful for her understanding as he embarked on his second attempt at that morning's breakfast.

* * *

"Progress, love?" Cora sighed, her train of thought disturbed. The spells that had been cast on the cell were complex, strung together in an intricate manner that had perplexed even the Dark One. But inside the cell, Rumplestiltskin had lacked the resources she had at her disposal in her daughter's castle. Furthermore, he lacked the drive that she possessed, the fire that fueled her, and she was confident that any spell that could be cast could also be undone. And so she sat, day after day, studying ancient tomes as she compiled a list of the most likely candidates for the job. Until, of course, that infernal pirate interrupted her yet again, leaving her to wonder why she kept him around at all. "Tenacity has a greater payout than impatience, pirate," she purred, silently cursing him in her mind. She'd been nearing a breakthrough - perhaps - but the threads she'd been pulling together were now scattered to the wind. "Indeed," Hook concurred, as if impatience was not his specialty. "It's just that you seemed so confident breaking the spell would not be an issue." "It's wouldn't be an issue," she said, gritting her teeth as she leveled a glare his direction, "If I could concentrate on my study." "Ah, I see. I will leave you to your devices then. Do let me know if I can be of assistance." Cora rolled her eyes at his idiocy. "Not unless you've a store of squid ink hidden in your hook." "Squid ink?" The inquiry brought a light to the pirate's eyes, aquatic items being far more his language than magic, spells or curses. "Yes," Cora replied with a sigh. "That's how Rumplestiltskin made his escape. It has the ability to-" "Neutralize magic. I know." "You're aware?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Some time ago I was keyed in on the secret, offered some in exchange for - well, nevermind that," he interrupted himself, shaking his head. "In any event, I acquired it on more than one occasion during my time in Neverland." "Pity you don't have it any longer." "Just because a man hasn't an item on his person, it doesn't mean he lacks possession of it, love."

With that statement he gained her full attention. "Well then how do we get it, my dear?"

Hook chuckled, feeling as if he had the upper hand at last. "Therein lies the catch... the ink is on my ship, tucked away in a location safe from prying eyes. The ship itself is the issue. When we entered our slumber eighteen years ago, I left it docked in the harbor, but pirates being pirates..."

"It could be anywhere."

Hook shrugged, indifferent to the challenge. "Anything that can be lost can just as easily be found. You can continue searching for answers in these worthless books, or take a bet on something you know to work. My ship is out there, somewhere. We could extend our partnership, locate it together. In exchange, you would receive a portion of the squid ink, and with it the ability to free your daughter. Meanwhile I get my vessel back, somewhere to go home to once I've finished with Rumplestiltskin. How about it, love."

"Hm." Cora replied. "A tempting offer." She pondered for a minute, meeting Hook's hard gaze. She held it for a minute, calculations whirring wildly in her mind. Finally she gave a terse nod. "All right, pirate. You've made yourself a deal."

"Excellent," the pirate replied. The tables having swung in his favor, his grin made its first appearance since waking from his slumber.

* * *

Having finished breakfast with no further mishaps, Emma &amp; Bae wandered up the hill to visit his father, talking lightly as they went. Arriving at the front door, Emma went to knock, only to have the door swing open before she was able to even raise her fist above her waist.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to that," she muttered, causing Bae to chuckle a bit.

"You'd be surprised at the absurdities that become normal," he replied, a strange mix of bitterness and amusement in his voice. "Life with Papa around is... far from ordinary."

"As I've discovered," she replied. The duo walked side-by-side into the hall, where they found Rumplestiltskin seated in his favorite chair.

"My children!" he replied, clearly deriving great amusement from Emma's scowl at the title. "What brings the two of you for a visit today?"

"Emma would like to attend a ball tomorrow, Papa."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, glee dancing in his eyes.

"Alone."

Rumplestiltskin looked at Emma, his expression turning sour. "Whyever would you want to do that?"

"I-"

"She's concerned we won't make convincing newlyweds," Bae said, cutting her off.

She turned to scowl at him. "I can speak for myself, you know."

He drew back, looking stricken. "I thought you wanted me to intercede?"

"You offered to accompany me up the hill... I don't need you to fight my battles."

"My apologies, Princess," he said, false graciousness hiding the slight sting he felt at her admonishment.

Bae heard his father clear his throat and looked back to find that he was watching the two of them with poorly disguised amusement. "Lovers spat already?" he needled. Emma turned and glared at him, refusing to justify the absurdity of his comment with a verbal response.

"The ball will have many of my acquaintances in attendance," she resumed, "and we're concerned they'll quickly see through the ruse. Bae suggested perhaps I attend alone, claim he's not feeling well... but if I did so, we'd be separated at nightfall."

"Pity that won't work out for you, then," the imp replied, his voice devoid of sympathy.

"I was hoping you might waive the restrictions for the evening."

"My dear princess," he began, shooting her a stern look, "Our agreement is barely forty-eight hours old. You'd like to renege on it already?"

"I've no intention to renege! We'd simply like to request an exemption for the evening," she replied, as if she'd clarified her position beyond reproach.

"Which has exactly the same end result," he replied. Seeing the unamused faces of the duo standing before him, Rumplestiltskin continued. "What have you to offer me in exchange?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, curious as to how they would answer.

Emma glanced at Bae, who merely shrugged. "My gratitude?" she offered, hope evident in her voice despite the fact that she knew deep down the battle had already been lost.

Rumplestiltskin giggled, this offering being so far beyond inadequate that it traveled into the realm of the absurd. "Ah, it seems you underestimate me, dear princess. No - an exemption is not something I am willing to grant. On the contrary, I think you should both go to the ball! Take your new husband, show him off - it might be good for Bae to get out for the evening. He hasn't much in the way of a social life. Perhaps your influence will rub off on him a bit." Bae glowered at his father as Emma returned to the glare Rumplestiltskin was getting to know well. "You two are quite the pair, dripping with righteous indignation because I won't bend the rules. It's a ball. Go. Try to have fun! You may even be surprised at how much you enjoy yourselves."

Emma, having lost patience with the argument, turned on her heel and clomped out of the hall. Bae followed behind, throwing a terse good night back at his father as he went. As she reached the foyer, Emma narrowly missed being hit by the doors as they swung in towards her. She growled in frustration before stomping down the front steps, allowing them to bear the brunt of her anger. Even then, she barely slowed as she reached the packed dirt road, her frustration propelling her forward.

Rumplestiltskin watched as his beloved son departed on the tail of the princess whose life he'd apparently ruined for the second time inside of a week. After casting the doors shut behind them, he spirited himself to an upstairs window to watch their retreat. Emma made it ten steps, maybe fifteen, before she stopped and turned, waiting for Bae to catch up with her. Once he did, she spoke earnestly. Despite not listening in on their exchange, Rumplestiltskin found himself smiling. The girl was giving Bae a run for his money, no doubt. In return, he'd seen a spark in his son that had long been buried. Gone was the apathy and anger of the last four years, replaced with a mix of frustration and an honest attempt at a friendship. Truth be told, what might appear to most as a rocky start was in fact better than he'd ever dreamed. Bartering in unison already? Things were coming along beautifully.

* * *

Once Emma slowed enough for Bae to catch up with her, they walked along in silence for a few moments. Emma's pace continued to slow as they went, her shoulders gradually slumping and gaze casting downward as the fight drained out of her.

Finally she sighed, frowning as she did so. "I'm sorry," she offered, voice quiet as she studied the ground.

"For what?"

"I snapped at you when you were only trying to help, and I'm afraid my temper caused your father to refuse my request."

"No, definitely not," he replied with a shake of his head. "My father's misguided sense of humor did that."

She sighed again. "I guess I'm to go with you or not at all, then."

"Seems so," he said. A moment passed before he spoke again. "Really, I'm happy to accompany you if you'd like."

"I just hate to ask you to do that," she replied, finally meeting his gaze.

"I truly don't mind," he said, perhaps with a bit a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice. She stopped walking and looked at him skeptically, studying him for a moment before realization came over her.

"You want to go!" she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with amusement.

He tried to play it off with a shrug, but the flush that overtook his cheeks betrayed him. "Papa's right. I don't get out much. I've certainly never been to anything like a royal ball. I am a bit curious."

"Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" she asked with a laugh. "Could have saved us this entire trip."

Another shrug. "I did mean what I said. You're not someone who hides her feelings well. How do you plan to convince your loved ones that you're pleased to be there with me?"

She walked quietly for a moment, his question bringing a halt to their jovial conversation. Emma studied the ground as she considered her response. "I don't know," she replied, uncertainty betrayed more by her hesitant tone than by her words.

"Well, how do newlyweds act?" Bae asked, keeping his voice light in an effort to restore levity. "I mean, surely you've seen friends fall in love before, right?"

"Really just Alex," she replied. "I'm the eldest of our circle... she married very young."

"Well, it's a start at least. How does she act around her husband?"

"Ridiculous, really!" Emma rolled her eyes at the memory. "She's forever making moon-eyes at him, clinging onto his arm, laughing at his stupid jokes. Sometimes I want to just shake her and tell her to look at herself, to see how she's behaving. It's really quite absurd. Embarrassing, almost."

"You don't think you'd be equally 'moon-eyed'?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her outrage.

Emma snorted. "I've always liked to think that should I ever fall in love, I'd be a bit more reserved."

"Reserved?" he teased her. "How romantic."

"It seems to me you can express affection without making a fool out of yourself, don't you agree?"

"I suppose," he said, sighing. "You'd have better role models than me. What about your parents?"

"Hmmm. My father looks at my mother like she's the one who lit the sun. She's forever talking about him - 'your father this' and 'your father that.' Oh, and the nicknames... She calls him Charming... like it's his name or something. Ridiculous, I tell you!" She laughed, shaking her head again before her brow furrowed. "I do suppose that brings up a good point, though. If we'd married for love I can't imagine I'd be 'Princess' to you. I'd simply be Emma, you know?"

"It's a valid point," Bae said with a nod. As he continued, he stuck his hand out, offering it to her for an overly stiff handshake. "It's nice to meet you then, Emma. I'm Bae."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bae," she continued, giggling as she made a mock curtsy. "So only half a name, huh?"

"Amongst familiar company, it's just the half," he affirmed. "My mother named me while Papa was away at war. He always just called me Bae."

"Bae it is, then."

The duo walked the last few minutes to their house in comfortable silence. Upon their arrival, Bae graciously opened the door and ushered Emma in with a wave of his hand. He followed, nearly plowing into her back mere moments later. She had stopped without warning, pulling up short just a few steps into the house. Searching for an explanation, he followed her gaze, finally landing on a lilac ball gown, intricately beaded and hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Next to it was a tunic and slacks, heavily decorated in colors that coordinated with the gown. Bae didn't need to examine them further to know that both would fit perfectly.

"What is this?!" Emma asked, storming over to the clothing.

"Our attire for the ball, I suppose," came Bae's reply, pointing out the obvious from where he remained near the door.

"Wherever did it come from?" she raged, looking back at Bae for an explanation. He did not answer, instead allowing his raised eyebrow to state the evident for him. Emma continued her rant with a sputter. "Who - what - why - WHY does he do these things? What is his game? Does he think having us play dress up is going to get him what he wants?"

Bae shrugged. "Who knows with him."

"Well, I won't be wearing it," Emma declared, lifting the dress off of its peg and tossing it over the back of the settee. After letting it fly, she folded her arms over her chest, her posture the finishing touch on her petulant child act.

"So wear another gown from your trunk, then," he said, offering the practical solution.

Emma looked back at him with a blank expression on her face, the notion taking her by surprise. "I haven't another."

Bae's eyebrow rose again, an attempt to suppress his smile mostly succeeding. "Well, then, what do you propose you wear?"

Furrowing her brow, Emma glanced back and forth between Bae - amusement creeping across his face - and the layers of toile and satin that lay tumbled between them. "It is a beautiful dress."

"Mmhm."

"And I'm sure you haven't anything appropriate aside from what your father sent - first ball and all. It would be a shame not to coordinate."

"I see. Your consideration of the gown is entirely altruistic, then."

"Baelf- Bae," she started, catching herself, "Don't tease!"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," he replied in mock innocence. "Just ensuring I'm following your logic."

"You're incorrigible, Bae!" Irritated though her words might seem, Emma was laughing as she said them, clearly not as sore about the teasing as one might imagine.

"Hardly so, Princess," he objected, the glint in his eye reflecting hers. "Merely doing my best to keep you in line."

She chuckled. "An impossible task, to be sure. I do believe we're both lost causes in that department." She paused to finish her laughter before continuing. "More importantly, I thought we abandoned this Princess nonsense?"

"Ah, my dear princess, in public - where we must uphold our charade - you shall be simply Emma. But here at home, where the truth is known, I think we'll stick with Princess. It suits you well."

"Does it now," she challenged, shooting him a pointed look.

"Indeed it does," he replied, his mischievous glint spreading to a full smile. "Eighteen years of habit doesn't disappear so quickly."

"No, I suppose not."

"It's not even necessarily a bad thing. It's just part of who you are," he said. Bae had found that even in her more genuine moments, there was a reservedness about the princess that he knew came from a lifetime of being raised as a royal. He'd spoken the truth, though - it was indeed part of what made Emma who she was. One of the things he was quickly learning about her was to identify those pieces and see past them to how she truly felt. So lost in these thoughts was he that he nearly missed the next statement, spoken in a far more soft and pensive

tone than was customary for the brash princess.

"It's not all of who I am, though..."

He blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts to process her statement. "Of course not," he said, sensing he'd struck a nerve he didn't know existed. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," she said, interrupting him. "It's just that sometimes there are moments when I feel like the 'Princess' in my name casts an eclipse across the 'Emma.'" She sat still for a moment before visibly shaking it off and plastering on a smile that even Bae could see was fake. Vulnerability buried, she continued. "It's no matter. We'll use that princess training to our benefit. We've two days to teach you the ropes and get you ready for your first royal ball."

"Don't do that, Emma," he said, crossing the room in a few quick strides and coming to rest in front of her. His face serious, he placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. "There isn't any need for you to hide like that."

"We do need to get you ready for the ball," she objected, twisting out of his grasp and busying herself with straightening the gown she'd sent askew earlier.

"We do," he agreed. "But you needn't hide behind a mask to do it."

She stood with her back to him, fiddling with ribbons and hemlines as she refused to meet his gaze. "It's not a mask, Baelfire. You said it yourself - it's just who I am."

"Emma, come on. That's a lie. You and I both know it."

She cast a glance over her shoulder at him, surprising Bae as he found tears pooling in her eyes. Without a word, she scooped up the dress and stormed into the bedroom, leaving the resounding rattle of the door as her only response to his comment. It was the last he saw of her that day. Emma's retreat left the cottage bathed in an eerie silence, one that Bae felt acutely. It echoed in his ears as another failure; the first chance he'd had to forge a connection after untold years of loneliness and it had taken him mere days to muck it up.

He'd married Emma to save her from the hurt of losing her family. As he'd weighed that situation, it had never occurred to him that he might be the cause of hurt all on his own. It was important to Bae that Emma felt comfortable being herself in the home that they now shared, but it seemed he'd pushed her too far, too quickly. In his efforts to get her to open up, he'd caused her to close off even further - and he feared that perhaps this would be a rift he'd be unable to mend.

* * *

A/N -

Thanks for reading along even with my laggy update schedule! I promise this story is fully planned out and I will continue to update it and see it to its finish... just gotta tuck in time for writing sessions in between work and more work!

As always, a huge thanks to textbookone for her rockin' beta skills and willingness to put up with my bugging! Also, credit for inspiring portions the final scene goes to her :)

Sorry for the random angsty turn there at the end! Next chapter, we'll see if we can resolve their tiff before we head off to the ball. I mean... every good fairytale's gotta have a ball, right? :)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Out of an abundance of caution, I have put a trigger warning in here. In the strictest sense, a character death is discussed in this chapter; it occurred in the past, description is non-graphic and the character is one I consider to be minor. But I know readers have varying sensitivity levels, so I included it. (There will also be at least one more death down the pike, and that one is much less of a footnote. Fair warning.)

Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, especially the ones from guests I can't thank directly - so sweet and I always love feedback on what does (and doesn't!) work for you. In general I don't feel like I'm getting a ton of feedback on this story, so please feel free to let me know what you think...

We're almost to some bends in the road for our characters as the story takes a bit of a twist. But for now, it's off to the ball - after all, this is a fairytale, and every good fairytale must have a ball! Thanks (as always!) for your patience and for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**TW: character death**

* * *

The next morning dawned gloomy and cold, engulfed in the sort of dreary drizzle only October could provide. By the time Emma pulled herself out of bed and wandered into the common area of the cottage, Bae was nowhere to be seen. She supposed he'd gone on another one of his walks. Outside of drawing it seemed to be his only pastime, and Emma found it unlikely that he'd be deterred by a bit of rain. She couldn't say she was upset to find him gone. If he were at the cottage he'd undoubtedly try to smooth over the previous night's argument, and it was a matter she'd rather not revisit at the moment. She remained too hurt and upset to discuss it with a level head, leaving avoidance as the best way to handle the situation.

By the time he returned, Emma had finished breakfast and curled up in a lounge chair, intent on finishing the book she'd started the day prior. She was fully engrossed in the tale, never even looking up as she grunted in reply to his greeting. She remained only vaguely aware of his movements as he pulled his wet things off and hung them by the fire to dry. In fact, until a shadow was cast across her reading, she did not pay him any mind at all.

With her light blocked, she looked up to find Bae hovering near her chair. She groaned internally, assuming he was preparing an address of some sort. Jumping to speak before he could deliver it, she said, "There's etiquette you'll need for tomorrow. Once I finish this chapter I can begin drilling you."

"Emma, about yesterday-"

"You've a lot to learn and not much time to learn it," she continued, speaking over him as if he hadn't said a word. She returned her eyes to the book, unwavering in her refusal to meet his gaze.

"Emma." The name was delivered as a command. As he said it, Bae stepped in front of her, an attempt to ensure that she wouldn't ignore him again. "We need to talk about this."

"I don't wish to discuss it."

Bae crouched down, putting himself at her eye level before continuing. "Emma, come on," he said, the harsh tone of his prior statement fading into a plea.

She raised her eyes, shooting him an icy glare. "I. don't. want. to talk. about it!"

"Please, Emma," he continued. "I didn't mean any harm. I just wanted you to feel comfortable here, to feel free to be unguarded."

"You called me a liar!"

"I didn't mean-"

"You haven't any right, Baelfire. We met less than a week ago. We hardly know each other. I've been trying here, really trying to make this less miserable for both of us - but you've no right to act as if you know the first thing about me. You know _nothing_ about me."

Bae sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head. She watched as his shoulders slumped and he brought his hand up, rubbing at the back of his neck as if at a loss for what to do next. Finally he looked back at her, reaching a hand towards her knee. Emma stiffened as she waited for the contact, but to her surprise he caught the upholstery to her right instead. He began to speak again, and finally she met his gaze. "I know you're not happy here. I know that. This isn't what you wanted. It's just... I'd like you to be comfortable. I don't want you to feel as if you have to keep up a pretense around me. I don't care a bit about your title or your status - I just need to keep you safe until I get you back to your family. That's all I'm after, Emma. Please believe me when I say I'm truly sorry to have made the situation worse for you. That's never my intention."

She drew in a breath, eyes trained on the boy crouched to her right as she considered his apology. Something about his plea resonated with her; maybe it was the fact that if what he was after was her status, he wouldn't need to win her favor. He'd already gained the title by marrying her. If that were all he wanted, her happiness should have been of no consequence. Apart from her parents, few people in her life had ever dared to challenge her; fewer still had done so because they gave a flying fig about _her_. She'd no reason to doubt his words; they all rang true, falling in line with how he'd presented himself from the beginning. And if he was being sincere, holding a grudge would only cause their already awkward circumstance to become more uncomfortable.

Finally, she conceded. "Okay."

"Okay?" he echoed, his face lighting up with hope.

"All right. I'll stop being cross. But I don't wish to speak of the matter any further."

"Thank you," he replied. He stood, stretching his legs before he backed over to the settee and perched on its arm. She watched the tension ease out of his shoulders, realizing for the first time how much of a weight the argument had put on him. She'd need to remember how personally he took things. Far more like her mother - who couldn't stand for her to be upset - than her father, who understood her and knew her anger would fizzle in time. Bae cleared his throat, dragging her out of her thoughts, and she found him looking at her expectantly. "So you were saying, there's some etiquette..."

"Right, right," she replied, shaking herself out of her reverie. "So I've given this a bit of thought, and I think the most important thing for you to know is how to address people." Bae nodded. "You'll be meeting a wide variety of nobility, each with their own titles. It's crucial that you don't offend anyone by dishonoring them, but you also can't go on as if everyone you meet is the Queen Mother herself."

"Okay," Bae replied, sounding uncertain.

"It's not so complicated. If someone is a King or Queen, it's imperative to address them as 'Your Highness.' Princes and princesses - well, that's a little more complicated, some are at status with you, some below, depends on birth order and lineage and - well - let's just stick with 'Your Highness' there as well. You can follow my lead if you're not sure."

Bae nodded, swallowing hard. "Your highness. Got it."

"And that's actually it, really. You'll meet Dukes, Dutchesses, Lords, Ladies, Viscounts - no matter. They're all simply sir or madam to you."

His brow furrowed. "I can't talk down to Lords and Ladies."

"You're not talking down to anyone, it's just a title. They'll expect it, it's not an issue."

"But I can't 'sir' or 'madam' Lords and Ladies, I'm just-"

"You're a prince, Bae."

He stiffened. "I'm not!"

Emma let out an impatient sigh. "Baelfire... you've married a princess. You may not feel like a prince, but that's the title you've inherited. Tomorrow night you'll need to act the part."

"I can't-"

"You _can_. If you run around 'your highness'ing everyone from my parents to the servants who are stocking the food, people will wonder where it is I dug you up from. There's no quicker way to draw attention than to act like you've no idea how to conduct yourself. So long as we're married, you're a prince. May as well act like it."

Bae scowled, his gaze fixing on a spot somewhere behind Emma. He seemed to contemplate for a moment before finally nodding. "All right. Just for tomorrow night, and only because there's no way around it. Just doesn't seem right that a spinner's son should be looking down upon nobility."

Drawing in a breath, Emma closed her eyes, willing herself to have the patience to explain yet again. "First of all - you're not looking down on anyone, unless you're doing it inside your own head. Proper titling is ingrained into these people, speaking as everyone else does will serve to make you inconspicuous. Beyond that, your father's occupation has little to do with your worth. Don't judge yourself on that, because I can guarantee you no one else there will be. Half of them came from beginnings equally as humble." Bae had no response to this, so Emma continued on. "Now, do you dance at all? I guess I could show you-"

"I can waltz," he said, interrupting her.

"You can?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

He shrugged. "I spent four years alone in that room at my father's. I read. A lot. I found a book that diagrammed dance steps... thought it might be fun to learn. Or maybe I was just bored out of my mind. Anyways, I only got as far as figuring out the waltz before Clara walked in on me one day. I felt too stupid to continue."

"Clara walked in on you dancing by yourself?!" she said with an incredulous laugh.

He nodded, blush rising to his cheeks. "Credit to her, she didn't even react. I suppose it's likely not the strangest thing she's seen."

"No, likely not. Not working for your father, anyways."

"Precisely," he replied with a chuckle. "You think the waltz will get us through?"

"I'm not looking to be swept off of my feet in a night of romantic dancing," she said with a shrug. "Just need you to be able to muddle through in case it comes to that."

Bae shot her an amused look. "I almost feel as if I should be insulted!"

"No insult was intended!"

"A likely story," he said with a huff, but as the smile never left his face Emma was unworried. "Okay, so your highness, sir, madam, waltzing - what's left in our etiquette tutorial?"

"Ummm... Okay. So next up is dining. The tables will be set formally, probably three or four forks, a couple of spoons... "

Their training lasted the better part of the day, Emma distilling a lifetime's worth of knowledge into a matter of hours. Luckily for her, Bae proved to be an attentive student and the duo finished out the session feeling confident about the task that lay ahead of them.

* * *

The unease from the tiff of the previous day had largely dissipated by the time the duo was ready to depart for the ball. Midmorning, a note had appeared on the kitchen table that advised them to expect the arrival of a carriage just after tea. Neither was willing to admit that in all of their preparations, it was the first time they'd considered their mode of transit.

They were waiting in silence as it rolled up. Bae raised his eyebrow at the sight of the coachman and team of horses. "Papa must be enjoying the ruse. Usually it's just the carriage. No need for a team when you've magic to do the work."

"That would certainly draw attention," Emma replied, walking with him into the yard and towards the carriage. She tugged the carriage door open and Bae offered a hand as she went to step up, but she shook her head, grabbing onto the frame instead. "I'm good. Thanks."

She climbed in, folds of fabric trailing behind her. Bae discreetly lifted them into the carriage, not wishing to trample her dress as he stepped up. Emma had no such worries. She slid her feet out of their slippers, propping them on the bench across from her and leaving a pool of satin and crinoline on the floor between them. He noted her lack of concern and shrugged, sitting next to her feet and stretching out to mirror her, legs extended across the carriage and crossed at the ankles.

Once they'd slammed the door shut the carriage began to move, rocking down the dirt path towards the edge of the grounds. Bae watched as a grin crept onto Emma's face.

"What?" he asked. "Excited?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Thinking about how my mother would kill me if she saw the state of this gown, heaped all over the floor. Nevermind my petticoats exposed to the world."

"Your secret's safe with me," Bae said, sending her a conspiratorial wink. "We'll straighten it out before we arrive."

Emma smiled, tilting her head back against the carriage wall. "Thanks."

They settled into silence, Bae staring out the window as Emma closed her eyes and rested. The sound of the horses' hooves blended into the background as they reached the main road and he watched as the landscape changed from the sharp peaks of the mountains surrounding the Dark Castle to the rolling hilltops of the countryside. With Emma asleep and Bae lost in his thoughts, the trip passed quickly. Before terribly long, a golden sheen came over the horizon. As they drew closer, he realized that the sheen was in fact the reflection of a palace coated entirely in gold. In his shock, he let out a grunt of disbelief.

Emma blinked at the noise, squinting in confusion. She followed his gaze, letting out a chuckle upon seeing the palace. "I see you've spotted our destination."

He tore his eyes from the window to look at her. "I'm no stranger to gold, but that's..."

"A little extreme?" Emma rolled her eyes, her disdain written plainly across her face. "Supposedly it was originally built with stones, as most castles are. But when Midas gained his golden touch, one of his first acts was to turn it into this monstrosity."

"It's his palace?"

She nodded. "Was. He passed on a couple of years back... his daughter's family lives here now. Alex married her eldest son."

"I see," he replied absently, eyes once again fixed outside as he caught sight of the line of carriages pulling up to the palace. "Not a small event, is it."

"No," Emma replied with a laugh. "Most balls aren't." Following his gaze out the window, she made a face and pulled her feet down off of the bench. Stuffing them back into her slippers, she began arranging her dress. "Suppose I ought to get myself straightened out. My luck would have my mother in the carriage in front of me and I'd end up subjected to remedial etiquette lessons all night."

"Well let's not have that," Bae replied. "Doesn't sound like it would be much fun for you."

"No, indeed," she said as the carriage came to a halt. Fixing her gaze on the boy seated across from her, she broke into a mischievous grin. "Well, here we are. Are you ready for your first ball, Baelfire?"

* * *

Disembarking from the carriage went smoothly - Emma even managing to keep her wits enough about her to take Bae's hand as she stepped down. He managed not to gape too terribly as they walked into the palace, whispering to Emma that even he had to admit that the gold-plated ballroom - softened by carefully chosen fabrics and illuminated by candlelight - lent a celebratory feel to the occasion. Almost immediately upon entering, Emma caught sight of the guest of honor. Breaking into a grin, she flew across the ballroom, Bae doing his best to keep up with her as she dodged through the crowd.

"Alex!" Emma cried, tossing her arms around her friend. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," she replied. Dropping her voice, she whispered into Emma's ear. "It's a lot of fuss, this ball. I'm glad to see a friendly face."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Alex smiled back at her, releasing Emma from her grasp and for the first time noticing the boy standing behind her friend. She shot Emma a confused look. "Who's this?"

"Oh!" Emma shot a glance over her shoulder and then reached back, grabbing Bae's hand and hauling him forward to stand by her side. "Alex, this is Bae. He's, um... he's my husband." She held her breath, watching Alex's expression as it turned to one of shock and suspicion.

"He's your _what_?" she asked, after picking her jaw up off the floor. "When did this happen? Why haven't I heard of him before?

"Alex, we just haven't seen each other much lately... you've been so busy, with James and now the baby..." Emma stalled for time as her mind spun. With all of Alex's questions, she realized that in all of their preparation it had not dawned on them to brainstorm even the most basic of love stories.

As if he was reading her mind, Bae jumped in. "It was a bit of a whirlwind romance, to be honest," he supplied, proving answers to several of the questions at once. Emma found herself grateful for his level demeanor.

Alex's eyes narrowed as she regarded them suspiciously. "But married so quickly? Emma, that doesn't sound much like you. Was there a reason for the rush? You're not...?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes popping open as she vehemently shook her head. "Certainly not."

"Hm," Alex replied, frowning slightly as she attempted to suss out the rest of the story that she seemed certain her friend was hiding from her. "And how did the two of you meet?"

Emma looked to Bae, worry evident in her eyes as she struggled to fabricate a believable tale. He jumped in before she could speak, opting for a far simpler route. "I went to her family's home on business and I just... couldn't leave without marrying her." He sent her a small smile and she returned a grateful one as she squeezed his hand. The understanding that passed between them - the spirit of his statement concealing the truth hidden within it - must have served as enough of a connection to pacify Alexandra. She tilted her head to the side in contemplation before letting out a soft hum, eventually deciding she could accept the situation as it was presented to her.

"Oh Emma... I do wish the two of you every happiness. Perhaps you could stop by for a visit soon so that we can catch up properly? I'd like to hear more about this husband of yours."

"I'd love that," Emma replied. She beamed at Alex, thrilled that they'd passed inspection. Leaning in, she pulled her friend into a tight squeeze. "I'll send a messenger to arrange it."

Alex barely had time to nod before her attention was required with another set of guests. Emma watched as her friend disappeared behind a well-practiced smile, turning to greet the many well wishers who were clamoring for her attention.

As the duo walked away, Bae wrapped a gentle arm around Emma's waist, intent on playing the role set before him. She leaned in, rising up on her tip toes to whisper a quick thanks into his ear. He gave her a quick smile and nod in response.

As they completed this exchange, Emma's parents spotted them from across the ballroom. Snow elbowed her husband, quirking an eyebrow. "They look cozy," she said, waving at the duo.

"Surprising," Charming replied, suspicion lining his voice as he watched the duo pick their way through the crowd to cross the cavernous space. "They didn't sound close when we saw Emma three days ago."

Snow merely shrugged, far more interested in pulling her daughter into a fierce hug than continuing to speculate on this new development. "Hi!" Emma cried, reaching out to wrap an arm around her father as well. Clinging to both of them, she whispered into their ears, "Play along." As she leaned away from her parents, she noted the puzzled expressions on both of their faces. Willing them to catch on to the ruse, she reached back and grasped her own husband's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "It's Bae's first ball, isn't it so exciting?"

Her parents exchanged a look, the kind that went on a little too long to be anything other than a wordless conversation. Emma knew those well and her stomach sunk, years of experience reminding her that such looks never meant anything positive for her. "So exciting," her mother echoed, her tone the complete antithesis of her words.

"Baelfire, may I steal my daughter for a dance?" Charming asked. "I'll have her back to you in no time."

"Of course," Bae answered, looking a bit flummoxed at the family dynamic. "I trust you'll take good care of her."

"As much so as I did the first eighteen years of her life." There was an edge to his voice, and as Emma felt her father's firm grasp on her shoulder, she knew she was in trouble. He led her to the dance floor, expression unreadable. Moving into an easy hold, she flashed him a troublemaking grin that was all his own.

"A bold move, stealing the first dance from my own husband."

Charming didn't laugh. "Tell me this charade wasn't your idea. I know we raised you better than that."

Playing innocent, Emma tilted her head to the side. "I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy. Bae and I are married now - of course I brought him along to the ball."

The stern expression her father wore let her know that he didn't buy her act for a moment. "You're acting far fonder of him than you were the last time I saw you. Emma, playacting for the public will only get you in trouble."

"Would it be better for the truth to be known? That I'd married him to avert tragedy for our family and for the kingdom?"

Charming ignored her question, trying again. "The charade was his idea, wasn't it."

Heaving a sigh, she conceded the argument. "He made good points, Daddy."

"Points that allow him to act far more familiar than should be allowed of a boy who's known you only seven days."

Emma snorted. "Please. A hand around my waist is hardly a concern. Must I remind you that I'm married to him? You're the one that gave me away!"

"We hadn't a choice, Emma."

"And do you think Bae and I did? I came out to support Alex. Show up alone, looks suspicious when word gets out that I'm married. Act coolly towards him, the neighboring rulers become concerned you've sold out your own daughter. And for what? If anyone knew who Bae's father is..." She shook her head. "They'll find that piece out eventually. Best for them to think I'm the one who initiated the union in the meantime."

"I don't trust him, Emma."

She drew back, studying her father for a moment before replying. "I don't need you to trust him. But I need you to trust me. This was the best way we could come up with to handle the situation." She sighed, breaking her father's hold as the song came to an end. "I'm going to see if they have any of those tarts that Midas' staff usually prepares. Go on and report back to Mama." She turned, not waiting for a response before she began to walk off.

"Emma-"

She spun back around. "I don't need a lecture. We've got it handled." Beginning to move again, she only made it half a step before she stopped and turned back to face her father. Defiance written all over her face, she tossed one last thought his way. "And for whatever it's worth, regardless of what you think of Bae - I _do_ trust him."

* * *

"They're arguing about us, aren't they."

Bae's question followed several minutes of awkward silence between himself and the mother in law he hardly knew. Snow sent him a kind smile in response; based on the little he knew about the kingdom's rulers, he wasn't surprised. Her kindness was legendary.

"Emma and her father are much alike. As a result, they butt heads quite frequently, I'm afraid."

"You think they may be arguing about something else, then?" Bae replied, hope evident in his tone.

"Oh, no," she replied, shaking her head, "it's almost certainly about the two of you." Snow turned, fixing eyes on the young man to whom her daughter was wed. "Why the ruse?"

He looked down, shuffling his feet. "We felt it was the least of the evils placed before us."

"Baelfire, these people are not stupid. It won't take them long to realize Emma hasn't fallen for you."

"No?" he asked, lifting his head to challenge her gaze. "She was able to pass muster with Alex."

Snow frowned. "Alexandra is..."

"Emma's best friend. I know she's flighty - Emma said she gets wrapped up in her own world - but she's the person most likely to notice that something's off. And she didn't. There's no reason to think that anyone else will, either. So long as we continue to play our parts, no one need know that it wasn't your daughter's decision to marry. Unless that's something you'd prefer to have as public knowledge, of course."

"No," she replied without hesitation. "It's probably better for all involved if we keep that close." She stared at Bae a moment longer, debating whether or not to pursue the matter. Eventually she opted to let it drop, instead turning her focus back to the duo on the dance floor. Her expression softened and Bae caught the questions that ran across her face as she watched her daughter. "How is she?"

"She's well," he replied. "It's not an ideal situation but we're making it work. She's got spunk, your daughter."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Snow replied, a smile crossing her face. "She'll keep you on your toes."

"So I've noticed," he replied, his tone tinged with amusement. He stared out at father and daughter for a few moments before furrowing his brow. "There's no handbook on this, you know. How to keep the kingdom's future ruler safe and happy while waiting out your deranged father."

Snow glanced over him once again, some sort of silent assessment being taken and filtered into her opinion of the boy. "No... no, there's not." She heaved a sigh before continuing. "Just do your best by her, Bae. That's all I ask. Under all of that spunk, Emma's got a sensitive soul. However the two of you work things out, please remember that."

Bae didn't answer, only nodding slowly as he kept his gaze fixed on the girl in question. He watched as she stormed away from her father, heading towards the refreshment tables that framed the side of the ballroom. "I should probably go to her... newlyweds and all," he said, speaking to himself as much as to Snow. She nodded, watching after him as he took his leave.

As he walked away, he happened upon Charming, clomping towards his wife. "Your highness," Bae greeted him, bowing his head as he slipped past. The elder prince only glared in response.

* * *

Emma stood scanning the table of hors d'oeuvres when she felt a presence to her left. Looking over, she found an acquaintance; a young prince with an eager grin plastered upon his face. Internally, she cringed. "Hello, Phillip," she greeted him, eyes returning to the spread in front of her in hopes that he'd pick up on her disinterest.

"Hello Emma," he replied, leaning over the food and into her line of sight. "May I have this dance?"

She closed her eyes, exercising all the willpower she could muster in order to keep her face neutral while she scrambled for an excuse. "Oh, Philip, I don't know. I'm not sure that would be-" Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Emma stopped. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and found Bae, who had approached from the other side.

"I'm afraid her dance card's full this evening," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders, the possessive act an attempt to drive his point home.

"I'm sorry, and you are...?" the boy asked, scowling at the interruption.

"Her husband," Bae replied, releasing Emma's shoulder in order to offer her his hand. "Emma?"

She nodded, taking the proffered hand and stepping onto the dance floor as the young prince watched after them, agape. Bae drew her near enough that he could lean down to whisper into her ear. "So sorry... the tension in your shoulders told me that was a conversation you didn't want to be having."

Emma drew back to study him, warring with herself between being grateful that he'd rescued her from her clueless suitor and being angry on principal. "I didn't. I appreciate the save." She took a moment before continuing, unable to stop herself. "Though I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know."

"I know," he replied. "But leaving you to fend for yourself would make a terrible impression."

"I suppose that's reasonable," she said, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto her face.

"An old friend?" he asked, modifying his hold to put some space between them.

"Acquaintance," she said. "Young Phillip is the heir to the kingdom that lies to our east. Some years ago, he got it into his head that he was going to court me. Unfortunately he seems incapable of picking up on my disinterest. He's awkward at best, something that I blame on the fact that he has no mother." Glancing at her dance partner, she caught her gaffe. "Of course I don't mean - I mean - it's just that he has no idea how to court - it's not that everyone without a mother is awkward - " She sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so insensitive."

Bae watched her fumbling through her words and suppressed a laugh. "It's all right, no harm done. Tell me about this motherless Phillip, though. You've piqued my curiosity... even if he's not a threat to our blissful union."

Emma took a turn at laughter as they spun around the corner of the dance floor. "No, he's certainly no threat. Though I do fear you've just ruined his night," she said, nodding toward where the young man stood. He had remained rooted to his spot near the food table, where he stood sulking.

"Poor lad."

"Indeed. He's got quite a burden on his shoulders. As I said, he lost his mother some years ago. Childbirth. Rumors say she wanted a daughter desperately, despite the royal physician's advice against having another child. Instead of getting that daughter she lost her life, gaining a third son in the process." She shook her head. "It's a shame, really. His father has never been the same, grown ever more reclusive as the years have passed. As soon as young Phillip was old enough to hold his own in court, his father began sending the boy to royal functions in his stead. The poor lad couldn't have been more than twelve when he set his sights on me, but I never had any interest. He's got no spirit, no fire, you know? Who wants to spend forever with someone like that?"

Bae murmured in agreement and she shook herself out of the story, sending him a tight smile. "Suppose it's of no consequence now," she concluded. "He'll need to find himself a new prospect to court."

"Poor lass," Bae supplied, and Emma giggled once more.

"Indeed."

The duo took their leave of the dance floor, heading for the tables where her parents sat chatting with Abigail and Frederick. The foursome looked up as they approached, Abigail smiling widely at Emma.

"Well hello Miss Emma! It's lovely to see you."

"You as well," Emma replied, bending to brush a kiss to the cheek of the long-time family friend.

"Who's this?" the elder princess asked as she glanced behind the younger. "Why Emma, have you found yourself a beau?"

Emma shot a sidelong glance at Bae, biting her lip as she did so. "Um," she replied, stepping back to stand next to him and grappling for his hand, "husband, actually."

Abigail's eyes went wide; to her credit, she recovered quickly. "Congratulations," she replied. "And so quickly!"

Emma merely nodded, bracing herself for follow-up questions that never came. Instead Abigail looked across the table at her friends, directing her next words at them. "These kids! Why are they in such a rush? I mean, at least she waited longer than ours, I suppose..." She punctuated her words with a shake of her head.

Snow gave a shadow of a shrug. "It wasn't how we'd envisioned things happening either, but sometimes life surprises us."

"Ah well," Abigail said with a laugh, "Perhaps my grandchild will end up with a playmate after all."

Abigail's words caused Charming to choke on his wine, drawing all eyes to his corner of the table. "Well," he said, after forcing a cough to clear his lungs, "I certainly hope there'll be no rush on that front."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Daddy, can we not do this here?"

Charming's response was to level a glare at Bae, who couldn't help but shrink back. Only the firm grip Emma had on his hand stopped him from retreating behind her. "It just seems the two of you should spend some time getting to know each other before taking such a drastic step."

"We've no intention of-" Emma stopped, catching herself just before she blurted out a far more telling statement. "I don't think this is a conversation we should be having in this moment. Please can we drop it?"

"Listen to your daughter, dear," Snow said, patting his hand. "This is hardly appropriate for a ball."

Charming only grunted in reply, never moving his eyes off of the young man who had married his daughter. That marriage was a complete sham, and if the boy ever laid a finger on her, well - it wouldn't end well for him. Although he was unable to warn him off in such a public setting, he hoped his warning looks would communicate the message loud and clear.

* * *

As the royalty of the kingdoms danced the night away, they were blissfully unaware of the threat that lurked in a nearby castle. For it was there that our villains finished the preparations for some traveling of their own.

Cora paced the room, her boots beginning to wear a pattern in the carpet. "And you're sure there's not a more... expedient way to do this?"

The pirate rolled his eyes, tiring of the conversation they'd had a half-dozen times prior. "Cora, from what you tell me a locator spell only works on people. The Jolly Roger may be my love, but she is still a ship. Traveling down the coast and inquiring at harbor towns will be the best way to locate her."

Cora scowled. "Very well then. Pack your trunk. It seems we have some traveling to do."

* * *

The rest of the royals' evening passed without incident; Alex and James' heir was announced to much fanfare and excitement - nevermind that most in attendance were already aware of the impending arrival. Emma drug Bae around to all corners of the ballroom, catching up with friends and acquaintances and introducing him to more people than he could possibly ever remember. Thankfully, their hasty etiquette training proved sufficient and no one paid him much mind. It seemed everyone was far more interested in her rushed nuptials than in her actual husband.

It was well past midnight when the ball finally began winding down. Emma's parents had departed hours earlier. Bae couldn't help but notice that every time he'd glanced their way, her father was sending a scowl back in his direction. Truth be told, it was a bit unnerving, but at least there had been no further drama. As the orchestra packed up, Emma found a yawning Alex to bid her goodbye.

The carriage had been pulled around front by the time they made it through the doors. Emma sent an enthusiastic wave back to Alex and - several hours into their act - accepted Bae's hand without thinking. She scooped up her dress, shoving it out of the way as he followed her up into the carriage.

"That thing's filthy!" Bae said, angling a finger at the heap of dress on the floor. Emma only shrugged.

"Means I wasn't a wallflower, I suppose."

"Well that's certainly accurate! I think you introduced me to every person in the place."

She rolled her eyes at him, wriggling to sit crosswise on the bench. "You say that like you didn't have fun."

"I did enjoy myself, actually. Never thought I'd get to see the inside of a ball like that. Fascinating, the way the royals live."

"Is it now?"

He shrugged. "Bit different than porridge for dinner and a straw mattress for a bed."

"Oh, come on." She rolled her eyes. "I've seen your father's house. It wasn't so far removed from the lifestyle of the royals."

"That's true," he said. "But I didn't always live like that. I suppose once a peasant, always a peasant."

"I wonder if my father feels the same?" she mused, thinking of his humble origins.

Bae, unaware of the prince's beginnings, took the statement a bit differently. "Your father hates me."

Emma chuckled. "He doesn't hate you, Bae! He just... doesn't trust you." A beat and then, "Besides, isn't that what fathers are supposed to do? Hate their daughters' suitors?"

"Emma." He made a face at her. "Did you see how he glowered at me all night? If looks could kill, you'd be a widow right now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well that would solve a number of our problems!" The look Bae shot her caused her to throw up her hands in surrender. "I'm kidding! Just kidding, Bae, sheesh."

"Not funny. There's a great effort being made here to keep people alive, remember?"

"Fine, fine," she said. "I wouldn't worry about it. He was just put out that we were playing happy newlyweds. Said I shouldn't be deceiving the people or some such."

"And what else were we supposed to do!"

"I don't know." She sighed. "He didn't have any suggestions either, for the record. It's not like this situation came with instructions, you know?"

Bae drew back, giving her a funny look. "That's exactly what I told your mother."

"My. Perhaps we have been spending too much time together."

Flashing her a grin, "Hazards of marriage, I suppose."

"Mm." She lapsed into silence for a moment, watching as he laid sideways on the bench, pillowing his head with his arms. "Bae?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for tonight, genuinely. I appreciate your willingness to play along with all of this so that I could go."

"It was my pleasure, Princess."

The late hour, darkness and sway of the horses made those the last statements of the evening. As the carriage of the young royals rolled past another on the narrow roadway - this one bound for seaboard towns - they were lulled into a peaceful slumber. For once, the dreams of both parties were pleasant ones, as they remained oblivious to the trouble would soon befall them, courtesy of the occupants of the carriage they'd just passed.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** \- I could preface this story by apologizing (for the fifty-eighth time) for how infrequtly I update, or making excuses for moving/work/out-of-town guests/vacation, but instead I'll promise that I WILL see this story through to the conclusion so long as I have readers. The good news is the next chapter is in final editing, so it should be up next weekend!

Thanks as always to textbookone for her work as beta. :)

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a mundane blur. Emma and Bae developed quiet daily routines; breakfast together, daily activities done on their own and conversation back in the cottage in between the setting of the sun and the time for slumber. Remaining unaccustomed to providing for themselves, trips up the hill to beg assistance were made far more frequently than either would have preferred. Emma made the journey home to visit her parents each week, never quite realizing that the return to the cottage became easier each time. Despite his promises to join her, Bae always found an excuse to stay behind.

Also occurring on a regular basis were Bae's nightmares. Emma had become accustomed to calming him; stumbling out of bed as a matter of routine and then returning to sleep without much fuss. Insofar as she knew, he had no recollection of the incidents. Certainly, they had never spoken of them. She preferred not to dwell on whatever it was that his subconscious might be churning up.

Overall their life together was not uncomfortable. They existed as comrades, working together when necessary but remaining entrenched in their separate lives. Bae remained on the settee - though he and Emma would both swear it had grown by several inches in the weeks since their marriage. His Papa's doing, to be sure. Not unlike the constant replenishment of charcoal and paper at the drawing desk, fresh books on the bookshelf, and the occasional appearance of jewelry, hairbows, and assorted baubles on the dresser in the bedroom. As the weeks passed, Emma's indignant reactions faded into annoyance, then acceptance and finally amusement. With the exception of the art supplies - an easy victory - the gifts served as proof of how poorly her father-in-law knew the duo. Had he spent time listening to them instead of attempting to manage them, he would have known that Emma was not the sort to be swayed by jewelry and Bae was rarely interested in the novels he sent over. Despite that, it was clear that no matter how cantankerous he might act towards them, Rumplestiltskin was making an effort to keep the duo comfortable... even if it was undoubtedly for his own reasons.

And so it was, several weeks after the ball, that Emma announced at breakfast that she'd received a note via carrier pigeon inviting her out to visit Alexandra. As a matter of course, she extended the invitation to Bae, although she knew he wouldn't accept and he knew she wouldn't want him to. Once the breakfast dishes were done - in the end, it did seem that the cottage's magical kitchen only extended as far as replenishment of food - she set out on the horse she'd borrowed so often that she was coming to consider it her own.

* * *

Much like our heroes, the queen of hearts and the pirate found themselves falling into a pattern of their own - theirs a bit less formidable and significantly more frustrating. Each day they would arrive in a coastal town and take rooms at the nearest inn. As the afternoon crept on, they'd make a visit to the local tavern, mingling amongst the locals in search of information on the Jolly Roger. Lacking this information, they'd retire to their quarters, waking the next morning to continue moving down the coastline to the next town. Alas, as the weeks wore on they found their search to be fruitless... until that fateful day when their persistence finally paid off.

"Aye," a young fishmonger answered, six pints of ale and an honesty spell under his belt. "I seen a ship matching that description. Due south, perhaps three days' journey - Chesterport, believe it was."

"Cora, darling," Hook hollered across the tavern, slamming a hand down on the table in his excitement, "I do believe we owe this young man a reward!"

The sorceress rose from her spot nearby, moving to stand behind the sailor. "You've found it?" she asked.

"Aye," the pirate replied. "Chesterport."

Cora dropped a single gold coin onto the table and marched towards the front door of the tavern. Over her shoulder she barked at the pirate, stating simply, "Come."

Hook dutifully stood, following her into the courtyard. "He said it's three days' journey. If we leave within the hour-"

"Nonsense. We traveled down the coast as you suggested. Now it's my turn to make the decisions." With that, she lifted her arm, casting forth a swirl of magic that deposited them instantly at the port in question.

Swaying lightly on his feet, Hook frowned at the sudden relocation. "But our things-"

"You won't need them. Isn't this your ship?" Cora asked, gesturing a finger toward the boat that lay in front of them.

"It is indeed!" the pirate cried, a grin spreading across his face.

"Excellent," said Cora, striding towards the ship. "Now to locate the squid ink."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the crew of the Jolly Roger had been set to slumber and summarily tied up. After finishing a final knot, Cora brushed off her hands. She stood awaiting Hook's return, having sent him to canvas the ship. As soon as he appeared above deck, she extended an outstretched hand towards him. "My ink?"

"Ah - not yet, love. The deal was that I get my ship back. Although we've found her, I'd hardly say she's back in my possession. She still has another captain laying claim to her."

Cora's brow furrowed as she thought for a moment. "Very well," she said, waving her hand and lifting the sleeping spell off of a handful of the crewmen seated nearby.

The men looked around, groggy and confused, one of them finally setting his sights on Cora. Struggling against his binds, he addressed her. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I've brought you a new captain, dear."

The pirate glared at her. "Blackbeard's been our captain for nigh on two decades!"

"And which of you, pray tell, is the famed Blackbeard?" Cora asked, scanning the crew for the captain. A dark-haired pirate caught her gaze, challenging her stare.

"It is I."

"And you lay claim to the Jolly Roger?"

"I do."

"And you, crew, you lay allegiance to this so-called captain?"

A cheer went up from the various mates and deckhands, affirming her question. "Pity," she replied. "As I already told you, The Jolly Roger will be assuming a new captain. Perhaps she will need a new crew as well."

"Over my dead body," Blackbeard spat back. "This is my vessel!"

"Very well," Cora replied, patience for the argument spent before it had even begun. She heaved an annoyed sigh, waving her hand and leaving a cloud of purple smoke to tumble off of it. When it cleared, a crow sat amongst the loosely coiled ropes that had once held the Jolly Roger's captain. "Blackbeard? Perhaps he'll prefer life as a black _bird_." Chuckling at her own joke, she turned to the crew and gestured at the recently transfigured captain. "Now, crew, let me ask you again. How many of you lay allegiance to Blackbeard?"

A murmur spread through the crowd, notes of shock and dismay peppering the whispers of the sailors. But no voices rang out, leaving Cora to continue. "Very well," she said. "Hook shall once again be captain of this vessel." Turning her attention to the newly appointed captain, she continued. "Assuming he fulfils his end of the bargain, of course."

"Indeed," he replied, rolling his arm in a partial bow. "A noble pirate always fulfils his debts."

"Then get to it," Cora snapped, causing him to scurry below decks. The crew sat in their binds, discomfort spreading through the ranks as they watched the sorceress pace across the deck. It was perhaps ten minutes later when their new captain reemerged, a triumphant grin spread across his face. In his hand he cradled a glass bottle, murky liquid splashing against the stopper as he climbed the last few steps.

"M'lady," he said, repeating his mock bow as he extended his hand.

Cora took the vial from him, examining it before mirroring the triumph in his grin. "Excellent," she said. Looking at Hook, she raised an eyebrow. "Let's get on with it then!"

"Would you kindly release my crew?" he asked.

Cora snapped her fingers, waking the last of the men and unfurling their binds. Despite their freedom, their eyes darted back and forth between the captain who had assumed command of them and the sorceress who seemed to outrank him, even on his own ship. They sat uncertainly, awaiting a command lest they meet the same fate as their former captain.

Finally Hook addressed them. "Well? You heard the woman. Set sail for Northpass!"

"Aye aye," came the chorus as the crew scurried about, unfurling sails, untying the moorings and raising the anchor.

Cora watched the action, satisfied, and in a matter of minutes the ship was ready to shove off. Hook gave the order and the Jolly Roger - complete with its new crow atop the mast - set sail for the Northern Kingdom. With a satisfied smile, Hook turned to Cora. "We should arrive by morning."

"Excellent," she replied, sea breeze whipping through her hair. "Then tomorrow is when we liberate my daughter."

* * *

Emma blew through the door, breathless, as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon. Bae looked up from his perch on the couch, where he sat thumbing through the book she'd finally finished the week prior. Meeting her eyes, he shook his head.

"Made it!" she declared, grinning.

"Yeah... this time. You cut it closer and closer. One of these days you're gonna hit nightfall and it'll be a snail's life for you."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Not funny."

"And what about that poor horse?" he continued, a glimmer in his eye. "I'm amazed he hasn't come up lame from the way you push him!"

"The horse is always walked out and groomed properly. Matter of fact, he's the reason I'm late tonight."

"Oh?" Bae raised an eyebrow.

"Burrs in his tail. Silly fellow decided a little off-trail adventure would be a wise idea. I objected, of course, but not before he'd created a bit of extra grooming for me."

He bit back a laugh. "Perhaps he was in search of a less demanding mistress."

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny." Kicking off her boots, she continued. "If you ask me, he frolics with joy at actually being ridden. Poor chap, been stuck in the stable of this creepy castle for the better part of his life. I don't even know why your father keeps horses. He never rides them."

Bae shrugged again. "Status? Acquired in a deal? Premonition that he'd someday host a restless princess in need of transportation?"

Snorting, Emma flopped herself onto her favorite chair. "Probably."

Bae put the book on the end table, using its spine to move aside the candle that had taken up residence there. He leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles, and gave Emma his full attention as he eased up on the teasing. "So how did your visit with Alexandra go?"

She brightened. "Very well! I've missed that silly girl so much. Somehow managed to keep her distracted by trivial things - they're redecorating parts of the castle, you know, hours worth of conversation there. Made for less prying about my 'new relationship,' which of course she was immensely curious about. 'Tell me about this boy you've married! However did you meet him?'" She shook her head. "The fewer tales I need to spin, the better."

He chuckled. "So very true." A moment passed before his curiosity got the better of him. "And whatever did you end up telling Alexandra about our meeting?"

Emma cracked a lopsided grin. "I told her you were out in the garden at my castle, passing the time while our fathers discussed some business. After spying me riding sidesaddle across the meadow, you fell instantly in love. Came rushing across the meadow, presented me with a crown of daisies and asked if I'd forever be yours. And how could I turn down such an offer?"

Bae gaped, horrified at the byproduct of Emma's peculiar sense of humor. "Crown of- Emma, whatever would possess you? You do know that's the story we'll forever be stuck with now?!"

Emma began laughing, nearly doubling over with amusement. "Come now, Bae, does that story sound much like me?"

"Not in the least!"

"Of course it's not what I told her. Don't be so gullible! Although to be fair I'd considered it, wanting to see how long until she called my bluff - I mean, we met in the fall, daisies aren't even in bloom! But she's been so unlike herself lately I'm not sure she would have caught on at all." She shook her head, disgraced at her friend's lack of perception. "No, the tale I delivered was much more my speed. Clandestine meetings in the butler's pantry, stolen glances across the dinner table, an eleventh hour wedding upon your departure to preserve my parents' honor - and it's just as well. Alex is a bit of a mess at the moment, I fear she would have taken the ridiculous daisy story and run with it."

"That certainly would have been a nightmare," Bae said. As he further considered her statement, the words about her friend jumped out at him. "But - Alexandra a mess? What's wrong with her?"

Emma shrugged. "It's a bit concerning, honestly. She clearly doesn't feel well, just about nodded off during tea. Acts as if it's normal, what with the baby and all. Hard work, apparently. I took my leave so she could nap. She told me she felt like she needed to sleep for a week to even approach feeling human again."

"Goodness!"

"A week - Bae, can you imagine? I'm not sure I've ever felt the need to sleep for a solid day, let alone a full week. I know Alex has a flair for drama, but I'm not sure I've ever approached that level of exhaustion!"

"No, I haven't either," he concurred, somewhat amused by her astonishment. "Poor girl."

"Poor girl indeed." She shook her head. "In any event, she's not at her sharpest. I decided to forgo the humor of the daisy crown lest we get stuck repeating that tale for eternity."

"A wise decision."

"Mmhm. Glad you approve."

He shrugged. "Emma, I think we both know you don't need my approval for anything."

"Fair enough," she said. "Still, better to have it than to start an argument."

Chuckling, he nodded. "I suppose that's true."

The conversation hit a short lull, Emma staring off into space as she worried over her friend's malaise. Snapping out of her reverie, she turned her focus onto Bae. "And how did your day go? Did you end up visiting your father?"

"Unfortunately." He grimaced. "I thought perhaps I could get Clara to mend my cloak without running into him, but I wasn't quite so lucky. Of course he wouldn't allow me to just have it mended... insisted on conjuring up a whole new one."

Emma shrugged. "At least you'll be warm through the winter. I still don't know how you tore that thing clear through the center!"

He threw up his hands in defense. "I caught it on a bush! I told you that already. As if you're one to talk, miss 'I've worn through the soles of my riding boots.'"

"By riding in them, Bae! How do you rip a cape when you never go anywhere?" She shook her head, not giving him room to answer. "You bring up a good point though - I need to figure out what to do about my boots before the weather turns. I'll suppose I'll have to make a trip to the market."

"Tomorrow looks to be clear and on the warmer side. You might take advantage."

She made a face. "That won't work. I've promised my parents a visit. Though I might be able to use that to my advantage and ask Mama for some pocket money." She paused, chewing on her lip. "Perhaps you could join me?"

"Emma..." Bae let out a heavy sigh.

"My mother asks after you often, you know."

He made a face, the argument having played out before. "It's really best if I give you that time with your family. Besides, your father-"

Rolling her eyes, Emma cut him off. "He doesn't hate you!"

"Indeed he does! You know it as well as I do."

She sat forward, scowling at him. "Don't be ridiculous. He just plays the part of the overprotective father. Besides, even if he did harbor some dislike, the best way to change his mind is to give him the opportunity to get to know you."

"It's not wise, Emma."

She rolled her eyes again. "You're being ridiculous."

He folded his arms across his chest in a show of stubbornness that neither quite realized he'd picked up from Emma herself. "You might feel that way, but I disagree. Why don't you ask him tomorrow, see how he feels about extending an invitation to the son-in-law he never wanted? I suspect his response will be less than welcoming."

Emma made a face, tapping her toe as she considered a means to persuade him. "Baelfire, come on. Certainly he's not looking to invite you, but if you'd just give it a chance-"

Bae wrinkled his nose, matching her own sour face as he shook his head. "Your father made a passing effort to welcome me before deciding I wasn't a good match for his daughter. That was made quite clear at the ball. Why toss that in his face, in his own home nonetheless? Perhaps there will come a day when it seems prudent to make the trip with you, but for the moment, it's best you go alone."

She let out an overly dramatic sigh, pairing it with a glare that was more annoyance than anger. "If you insist. But if I have to listen to yet another morning featuring my mother's not-so-subtle line of questioning about you..."

"I'll owe you not only the breakfast preparation but the dishes afterwards as well. I know, Emma, I know." He chuckled, thinking it a small price to pay for avoiding a day's worth of parental judgement.

"And lunch as well!" she cried, swatting him on the shoulder as she headed to the bedroom. "I'll be setting off early, then, and see you in time for supper tomorrow. Good night, Bae!"

"Night, Emma," he replied. Shaking his head, he went about his own nighttime preparations lost in thought. As sweet as it was of her to invite him along, and as much as he hated to refuse her request, he could handle a disappointed princess with far more ease than he could her angry father. The prince would need to extend an olive branch before he even began to consider such a visit.

* * *

The ship had docked in Northpass somewhere in the wee hours of the morning - Cora complained of stirring briefly as she heard the dull thud of the wood against the dock. She arose just before sunup, waking the pirate and dragging him ashore with her.

"Time is of the essence," she had told him, though he couldn't quite understand why - after nearly two decades - a few more hours of sleep would cause an issue. Perhaps it was just her impatience speaking.

As soon as they set foot upon the dock, Cora called her magic to them, swirling around and depositing them a short distance from the mines where Rumplestiltskin had been held captive. "The spells that are woven about the cell may radiate beyond it," she told Hook. "I'm unsure of how far out they go, so it's best we go on foot from here. A magical mishap inside the caverns could be quite... unfortunate."

He nodded. "I see." Puzzled, groggy, and still grumpy from the abrupt awakening, he continued. "And you need me on this errand because...?"

"Brute strength," she replied, punctuating her answer with a shrug. "My magic will get me far, but at some point the blockade will render it useless. From there on, getting us past the guards becomes your responsibility."

"Of course it does," he grumbled. "I'm beginning to question the benefits to me in this partnership."

"Aside from the return of your ship and future assistance with defeating the Dark One?"

"Touché."

Together they continued along until they came to a spot at the edge of the mountain. "Stand back," Cora commanded, pulling herself up to her full height and tightening her shoulders in preparation for the spell she was about to cast. Hook did as she asked, walking several paces away from the sorceress. Cora released a blast of magic and quickly he discovered that perhaps he should have asked for clarification on "back." He was tossed off his feet by the explosion as Cora's magic bore a hole into the rock face.

"Come along," she said, nonplussed by the effort. She entered the crater she'd just created, beckoning him over her shoulder and showing no concern for the tumble he'd just endured. Hook shook himself out as he trailed behind, finding Cora a handful of steps ahead of him, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. "Keep up, pirate. You'll need to be at the ready when we encounter the guards. I've no way to know how far the effects of the fairy dust reach, and when it kicks in it can cause my magic to be a bit..."

"Ineffective?"

She scowled, offended. "Unpredictable."

Cora led the way as they wound through the caverns, veering right at this passage while continuing on past the next. Hook had asked how Cora knew where to turn, only to have her insult his intelligence and ask what he thought she was doing during the last month while they'd traveled if not to memorize the cave map she'd found in one of Regina's books. As this conversation concluded she stopped short, narrowly avoiding being trampled by her companion. Cocking her head to the side, she motioned at him, pressing herself flat against the wall and indicating that he should do the same. She peered around the corner before waving Hook forward.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Guards. I expected there to be guards," she whispered, a hint of confusion in her voice.

They trudged on another few yards only to have the situation repeat itself again - and again. "There's no guards," she said, stating the obvious in an attempt to clear her confusion. "The schematic listed guards every quarter mile. Where are they?"

"It has been twenty years, love," he replied. "Perhaps after decades without incident they felt the cell's enchantment was sufficient to hold her?"

Cora scoffed at his response, but at a loss for answers she continued moving forwards without a rebuttal. Rounding a final corner, the cell came into sight, and the calculated smile that Hook had come to know so well made its way onto Cora's face. "Finally," she said, rushing forward. As she grasped the bars, she peered inside the shallow cell - only to find it empty.

"Regina?" she called, waiting for an answer. It was to no avail. She looked back at Hook, whose only response was a maddening shrug. Looking back into the cell, she tried again. "REGINA!"

The only reply was the echo of Cora's voice as it resounded throughout the cavern.

* * *

"So does Bae head up to see his father when you come to see us?"

The question came out of the blue - though not as a surprise. Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. At least her mother had managed to restrain herself until midday this time. "Not typically, no."

"No? I would have thought he'd... ah, well. So long as he's content, I suppose."

Emma rolled her eyes at her mother's transparency. "You can say it, you know. You wish he'd come around sometimes. I know you're curious - but he insists that my visits should be 'family time.' I'd probably have an easier time convincing him to join me if Daddy hadn't put the fear of the kingdom into him!"

"But it's my job, dear Emma," came the voice of the Prince as he entered the room, dropping a kiss on his daughter's head before slipping into his own seat at the lunch table. "He needs to know there will be repercussions if he ever lays a hand on you."

"No, he doesn't," Emma retorted. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself from nefarious suitors. Which isn't Bae, anyways! He's not some boy looking to run roughshod over the kingdom - or my heart. He's as trapped as I am, and we're both trying to make the best of it. Which would be far easier if both of our fathers weren't acting completely insane!"

"I fear he'll take advantage of you, Emma!"

"How so? By sleeping on a settee every night, or by handling breakfast so that I don't burn the cottage down?! Really," she said, shaking her head. "You entered me into this situation as an adult, the least you could do is respect my ability to evaluate things - like the fact that the boy you've married me off to is not a threat to my safety or well-being."

Charming scowled. "Watch your tone, young lady."

"Watch my-" Emma looked at her father, slack-jawed. "You must be kidding. You're accusing a boy you hardly know of nefarious intent - and you take issue with my tone?"

"All right, you two, that's enough," Snow said, interrupting their argument. "Charming, Emma's right. We've no reason to speak ill of this boy. He's gone out of his way to show her kindness. And as for you, young lady-" she sent her daughter a pointed look, "-you could try listening to what your father has to say. He's worried for you, and that is his job. Even if you take issue with how he displays it."

"He can worry for me without making poor Bae fear for his life, Mama."

Charming rolled his eyes. "Don't you feel that's a little dramatic? It's not as if I'm calling for a firing squad."

Emma met his gaze, challenging him. "Not when your experience with fathers is based upon the Dark One." To his credit, Charming looked abashed, and a beat passed.

Snow took advantage of the break in the bickering to redirect the conversation. "Charming, let him be. He's a young man who takes his responsibility seriously. Now, tell me, how is Johanna faring?"

He looked at his wife in confusion, blinking a few times as he computed the change in subject. "Better than yesterday, worse than the day prior. I've gotten her all settled with the physician. Once we finish lunch, I'll check in on them."

"Hopefully he has a remedy for the rheumatism that's plaguing her."

"It would be a relief, that's for certain. Emma, dear, could you pass the butter?"

* * *

The climb back out of the cavern was far swifter than the descent had been, Cora fueled by her anger and muttering under her breath about "those fools, the Charmings," and how she'd "make them pay." Hook remained quiet; pointing out that Regina was not in the cell had not won him any favors. He found himself thankful that Cora was distracted by far more pressing matters than turning him into an insect, rodent or other undesirable.

Even expediency caused by anger can only reduce a distance by so much, and the sun was beginning to dip in the sky by the time the duo surfaced. "Back to the ship, my queen?" Hook asked, hoping to stall the queen's murderous rage.

"Don't be foolish," she replied with a sneer. "The royals must pay for this. My daughter is missing, and I'd lay stakes that they're involved somehow."

"Of course they are, love."

"I'm going to make them tell me what they've done with my daughter. And then I might just dispense with the whole family! We only need to put some distance between us and this infernal mountain."

They journeyed along for another hour or so until Cora declared that they were free from the risk of any spillover from the spells. She informed Hook that it was best he remain out of sight, maintaining the element of surprise. He braced himself for the swirl of magic that engulfed him, express transportation back to his ship. Cora, meanwhile, made her way directly to the castle of the royals she was so determined to ruin.

* * *

"Hopefully the poultice will ease her pain," the physician said, speaking in low tones in the hall outside of his patient's room.

"Let's hope so," Prince Charming said. "If not, we'll have you back out to consider another course of treatment."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Thank you for taking the time to visit," the prince finished, handing a small pouch of coins to the physician.

"No trouble at all," he replied.

"May I walk you out? I'm headed to the front hall myself, actually."

"That would be - oh! I left my bag in her room. Let me grab it. I'll see you there?"

The prince nodded, heading down the stairs, and the physician turned back for his bag. As he left Johanna's room, he caught voices drifting up from the hall below. Upon nearing the top of the stairwell, he heard a yelp of surprise resonate off of the stone walls.

The physician crept forward a few steps, cautious to avoid being spotted, until he was able to just peer down into the hall below. There he was confronted with a strange sight: the prince and princess squaring off with another woman, dressed in clothes not unlike their own, who seemed to have startled them terribly with her arrival.

"My dear, sweet Snow," the woman began, her smile spreading like a poison across her face.

"Cora!" Snow gasped, taken aback at the shock of having the woman appear in a cloud of magic. "Why, how - how lovely to see you!"

"Yes, lovely, isn't it? Why, the last time I saw you, you were but a slip of a thing. And then Regina married your father, and - well. I wasn't around much after that."

Snow drew in a breath, an attempt to maintain her composure. "Regina said you'd taken a trip?"

Cora chuckled. "Is that what she called it? My, Regina has a way for words." She paused, narrowing her eyes before she continued. "Speaking of my daughter... can you tell me where I could find her?"

Snow glanced at Charming, who raised an eyebrow, encouraging her response. "She's no longer here," Snow said, appearing to mentally brace for Cora's response.

"Then where is she?"

"The agreement was that she would be put in exile."

"Exile _where_?" Cora replied, her icy exterior far more terrifying than a tantrum would have been. "Come now, dear, I'll need a few more details than that."

Snow bit her lip. "I'm - I'm not sure, exactly. We weren't privy to the details."

At this lack of information Cora's patience ran out, and she stepped towards Snow. The princess flinched, backing away. Without missing a stride Cora waved her hand, immobilizing not only Snow White but her prince as well.

At this terrifying turn, the physician evaluated his escape, determining that if he could slip down the hall, he might be able to escape out a back door unnoticed. He kept his eyes fixed on Cora as he crept along, sticking close to the wall. Fortunately for him, he did not hold any interest for the sorceress. Instead, she was taking advantage of the Princess' frozen state, igniting a fireball in her hand and stepping uncomfortably close to her intended victim. "Then who is?" she asked.

He could see the princess gulp just before he ducked around the corner. "The Dark One."

"The Dark One indeed!" the sorceress' voice echoed down the hall behind him. "I'll see to it that he brings her back to me. And then - THEN my dear princess - I shall make you pay. I shall cause you to lose your daughter as you caused me to lose mine! Better yet, I will ensure that the loss happens at Regina's hands. Once I am reunited with my daughter, I will allow her to finally have all that she deserves... beginning with crushing your daughter's heart!"

As he crept along, the physician put the pieces together and realized that the woman in the hall was none other than the mother of the Evil Queen. And she was bent on murdering the heir to the kingdom! Being a man of long memory, he knew her threats were not idle, and he took care to excise himself from her presence immediately. It was but a few steps to the end of the stone corridor, where he scrambled down a set of servants' stairs to his waiting horse outside.

* * *

"Thank you, sir. These will be lovely."

The cobbler smiled at Emma, having had his day made when she purchased the most expensive wares he carried. "My pleasure, Miss," he replied, handing her the change. She tucked it into the pocket of her cloak, then turned to tighten the saddlebag that held her new boots. As she did so, a nearby booth caught her eye. Stepping over to look at the artisan's wares, she spotted a paint set and contemplated whether Bae might want to try his hand at a new medium.

"'Allo, Tomas!" The cobbler's cry made Emma look in his direction once more; she smiled at his grin and exuberant wave. It wasn't often that she was able to sneak into the market, but there was a certain bustle and camaraderie there that she loved. As she turned her attention back to the paints in front of her, she caught herself listening in on the men next to her.

"How's business been?" the cobbler asked his friend.

The friend let out a noncommittal hum. "Gettin' by. Today's a good day; the royals had me out to see to a servant whose rheumatism was acting up. For all they tax us, at least they pay well."

Upon realizing that the man to her right was the physician she'd seen earlier, Emma took care to tug her hood more tightly about her head. She turned her body slightly, further hiding her face and enabling her to continue her eavesdropping as the cobbler replied. "That's the truth, ain't it? Any news of note?"

The physician let out a long whistle. "Things are set to get interesting up there. I took my leave before I got caught in the crossfire. Seems the Evil Queen's mother's come back from wherever it is she disappeared to. Cora, I believe they called her. Bellowing on about finding her daughter - exiled by the royals, you know - and how she's going to murder the young princess. Guess she wants to get back at the family for all of the wrongs they've done to hers. Seems to feel killing their daughter's the best way to do that. Shouldn't be hard, unfortunately. Apparently she's some kind of sorceress - wielding fireballs, casting immobility spells, tossing threats about, the whole nine yards. If I were that little princess, I'd be right skittish about the whole thing."

Emma's eyes grew wide, all thoughts of painting supplies vanquished. Skittish was an apt description - terrified even more on point. She'd heard vague allusions to Cora as a child, fleeting memories of conversations overheard when her parents thought she was out of earshot. The gist of the matter seemed to be that however awful the Evil Queen was, her mother was worse - apparently the one who had ignited the feud in the first place.

She shrunk back from the table, grasping blindly for her steed. Thrusting a foot into the stirrup, she flung her other leg over the horse's back and snapped the reins before she'd even gotten fully seated in the saddle. Emma wasn't sure what her plan was, but she hadn't time to stay and listen to the rest of the conversation. If Cora was out for her head, the middle of the marketplace was no place to be. Instinct told her to run home to her parents, but that's where Cora was, making the cottage a better bet. She galloped out of the market, sights set on the mountains that framed the Dark Castle.

* * *

**A/N** \- Credit where credit's due, "crown of daisies" is a small homage to a former ship of mine, _As The World Turns_' Katie &amp; Simon. There are tiny homages to various ships scatted throughout all of my stories, but this one is a bit more blatant than most so I wanted to make sure I gave credit!

**Next up**: Emma formulates a plan to avoid Cora's muderous rage. Can you guess what it might be?


	9. Chapter 9

Emma burst into the cottage, having tied her steed to the porch in haste. Flying into the bedroom, she yanked open the lid to her trunk, tossing garments aside until she found the knapsack that she had squirreled away. It had been packed in anticipation of frequent overnights with her parents that had never come to fruition.

She darted around the cottage, tossing necessities and niceties into the bag. She'd had some time to think on her ride, to formulate a plan. Returning to her parents' was out of the question. It was first place Cora would look. But she wasn't likely to fare much better by staying at the cottage, as no matter how much responsibility Bae felt towards her, he was no match for Cora. So she'd flee, setting off on her own and hiding somewhere for a couple of days, just until the threat had passed. She could get a message to her parents assuring them of her safety, allowing them to handle Cora without needing to worry about her. It seemed like the most reasonable plan given the urgency of the situation, and Emma was rather proud of herself for formulating her own solution.

In her panic, she'd filled the bag in only a few minutes. She wasn't entirely sure what had gone inside, but she fastened the catch anyways, figuring even a hasty packing job should tide her over. She laced up her new boots, slinging the bag over her shoulder and pulling on her shawl. Drawing in a steadying breath, her eyes flitted about the cottage, searching for anything forgotten. As her eyes scanned past the sofa, she recalled her companion of the last month and frowned.

Bae and his damned walks. She knew he felt like a caged animal if he was stuck in the cottage all day, but - really! Must he be gone at the most inopportune times? She would've liked to say goodbye, reassure him that he didn't need to worry about her, but she couldn't waste time waiting around for him. A note would have to do.

Emma spent a number of minutes searching for a pencil and paper before realizing the quickest place to find them was Bae's desk. She began rifling through his sketches in search of blank paper. He really was quite talented; such a pity his father wouldn't permit him to pursue a career as an artisan. She scooped up a stick of charcoal as she searched, muttering to herself as she wondered where on earth he stored his blank sheets.

"Emma? Whatever are you doing?"

Bae's voice surprised her and she spun around, charcoal still in hand. He was standing in the doorway to the cottage, hair tousled by the winter wind and face covered in confusion. "I have to go," she told him.

"Go where? It's nearly nightfall, you can't be headed far."

"I... just... go." Her panic hit a roadblock, remembering for the first time her father-in-law's decree about sundown. The blank expression on her face and nonsensical words must have worried Bae, as he furrowed his brow and stepped towards her.

"Emma? What's wrong?" he asked, reaching out and taking the charcoal from her hand. She was vaguely aware of him setting it on the desk behind her, but still she did not react, head spinning with possibilities. She couldn't stay. Cora was ruthless, Emma powerless to stop her. But she couldn't go - she wasn't permitted to be separated from Bae at nightfall. Rumplestiltskin was perhaps even more ruthless than Cora, and Emma didn't really want to hedge her bets on who was worse. She was stuck. Unless, of course-

"You'll have to come with me."

"Come? Where? Where are you going?" A beat and then, "Emma, would you please explain yourself?"

She looked at him, blinking a couple of times and snapping out of her daze. "Come on, we haven't much time. Grab a satchel, toss your things in. We need to go."

"Go _where_?" She ignored him, looking around in search of some sort of bag that he could use as luggage. As she flew past him, he reached out, catching her wrist. "Emma! What is the meaning of all this?"

She stopped, finding herself tethered to a spot and confronted with a need for explanation. "Cora," she managed to choke out. "She's... an old enemy of my parents, I guess. Apparently she wants to kill me."

"Kill you! Well the panic makes sense now. Give me a moment to pack and then we can set off for the safety of your parents'."

She looked at him, bewildered, as if he'd grown an extra limb. "Are you daft? That's the first place she'd look for me. Already has, as a matter of fact. It's only a matter of time before she finds out I'm here, and I need to be gone before that happens." She looked him over, once again considering her options, and shrugged. "There's no option but to have you come along."

"Emma, listen to yourself. You sound as if you've gone insane. Where are we going to go?"

She shrugged again. "I hadn't gotten that far."

"Listen, your parents' castle is fortified-"

She stared back at him, filling in the missing piece of the puzzle. "Cora has magic."

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Thinking for a moment, he tried again. "All right, my father then. Surely he can protect you."

Emma burst out laughing. "Like the last time he protected me? Saving me from some 'terrible fate' only to wed me to his son? Please." Resuming her search for a bag, she finally found a leather knapsack hung on a peg on the wall. She began shoving items madly inside, unaware of Bae watching her with a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

"Emma?"

"What!" she shouted, wheeling on him once again. "Are you going to help me? Or do you just want to stand by and watch me be killed?"

"Of course not," he replied, a hint of hurt in his voice. "I was just going to say that of course I'll go with you."

She stopped. "You will?"

"Why not? I've sworn to protect you. It's not as if there's anything for me here, anyways."

She surveyed him for a moment before giving a sharp nod. Before she could return to her packing, he spoke again.

"I do have a condition."

Her eyes darkened. "What's that?"

"You let me pack."

She scowled. "What makes you the expert on packing?" Walking into the kitchen, she continued filling the bag, fruit and utensils and an odd saucer being stuffed inside.

He unleashed a heavy sigh. "Let's just say I know a thing or two about survival." Watching as she stuffed her hairbrush down the side of the bag, he raised an eyebrow. "Whatever are you putting in there?"

"Things we'll need!"

"Let me see this," he said, holding his hand out for the bag. She stared back at him, not budging, but he held his ground. Hand still extended, he raised his eyebrow again and - remembering his condition - she handed it over, albeit not without grumbling. He began to unpack it. "Hairbrush... half a dozen bananas... candle... three spoons. Three, really?" Emma shrugged, offering no defense, and he continued. "Let's see, what's here in the way of clothes. A tunic, that's good. A pair of socks. At least you grabbed them both. And-" He found his hand at the bottom of the bag, "Well, it seems that's it."

"I wasn't finished," she said, scowling.

"That's just as well. Dump your knapsack out too, we're starting over."

"But Cora-"

"Running from Cora will do you no good if you die of exposure. Besides, you said she's been to your parents - did they tell her where you are?"

She pursed her lips. "Of course not."

"Then she'll be delayed a bit. We'll take an hour, pack a functional bag, and be gone. Just... stop your panic. I can't handle it."

Emma's brow furrowed. "_You_ can't handle it? You're not the one with a crazy sorceress calling for your head!"

"But I _am_ the one attempting to run off with a princess who is _acting_ crazy. You'll need to gather yourself if we've any chance of maintaining discretion in our escape."

She pushed out an annoyed huff. "Fine. I'll sit over here and let you pick through my things." She flopped onto the chaise, crossing her arms across her chest. "Happy?"

"Thrilled."

She scowled at his sarcastic tone, watching as he flipped her bag over, adding it to the pile he'd already created on the settee. He sorted the items - saucer, spoons, hairbrush to the left. Clothes went into a pile on the right; the bunch of bananas divided. "Go grab three or four pairs of trousers, a few tunics, several pairs of warm socks and a blanket that's not too bulky," he instructed. "I'll do the same."

"I have a blanket," she protested, gesturing at the fluff he'd added to the reject pile. "I'm set on that front."

"Not that one," he said, shaking his head. "It's got too much bulk, not enough warmth."

"But-"

"Emma! Do you want to freeze to death out there?"

She pursed her lips. "No."

"Thin blanket, tight weave. Preferably a woolen one, it'll be better if it's damp." She stared at him for a moment, weighing her attachment to the blanket she'd toted since infancy against the practicality of his suggestion.

In the end she decided to stay the argument. Perhaps she could talk him into adding it before they left. She went into the bedroom, choosing a few favorite garments. By the time she returned she found that Bae had added to the piles - a few more bits of food, a folding knife and other practical necessities in addition to his clothes. The kitchenware had been returned to its rightful place and the candle had been placed back on the table, her hairbrush set next to it.

"But my hairbrush-"

He gave a firm shake of his head. "What do you need it for? There'll be no one to impress. Furthermore, the thing weighs like five pounds!"

She pouted momentarily, choosing her battles. "Fine. But add the oranges back in, and the candle goes."

"Whatever for? Why would we possibly have need for a candle?"

Digging in her heels, she narrowed her eyes. "We just do."

"Emma, it won't be of any use to us."

Chewing on her lip, she weighed the timeliness of the conversation she'd been putting off for weeks. Finally she decided that the candle's presence was more important than her discomfort and plunged forth into her explanation.

"It's for nightmares. Growing up, my mother had them often. My father would always light a candle when she awoke."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning on having difficulty sleeping on our adventure?"

"It's not for me."

Bae appeared confused for a moment, then his eyes grew wide, the implication of her statement sinking in. He ducked his head and turned away, tucking the candle into his satchel without further argument.

There was silence for a moment, neither party sure how to proceed. Ultimately it was Bae who broke the stalemate, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "I think we have everything," he said, flipping the flap over Emma's bag and holding it out to her.

"I suppose so," she replied, accepting it. The plea she'd intended to levy for her blanket was forgotten in the awkwardness of the moment and it remained where Bae had stowed it, draped over the back of Emma's favorite chair.

Cloaks and shawls were tossed over shoulders and feet were shoved into boots, the duo preparing for their departure in an uncharacteristic silence. For the first time, the gravity of the situation seemed to resonate through the cottage, and Bae watched as Emma drew in a shaky breath.

"Are you ready?" he asked, standing with a hand on the doorknob. He took a final glance around to ensure they'd forgotten nothing of crucial importance.

"As I'll ever be," she replied, sighing. Her attitude and tone of voice betrayed the words entirely.

"Emma... we don't have to go. I'm sure there's another way to keep you safe."

She shook her head, sadness outlining her features. "We've been over this... there's really not." Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly to steady herself before continuing. "We should really get going. It's well past sundown, it should be deserted out there."

Bae nodded and turned the knob, easing the door open a sliver and peering outside before opening it fully. He took a quick glance around before stepping through the door, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he waited for Emma to follow. Once she had done so, he swung the door shut while Emma untied the steed. Wordlessly, they set out for the stables, the stowing of the horse the final step before their journey could begin.

* * *

"We should call him, Charming."

"I don't need that man to solve any more of my family's problems!" The Prince's voice had risen to a shout, echoing in contrast to his wife's unwavering calm. Cora had departed earlier, finally satisfied that she wouldn't be getting her hands on either Regina or Emma that evening. She left the royals with heavy threats of her return, and once she'd disappeared they retreated to the nearest parlor immediately. Snow's suggested plan was to fight magic in kind by calling Rumplestiltskin, but her husband had other ideas. "The last time we allowed him to assist, he stole our daughter!"

"Which is exactly why we must call him immediately," Snow implored. "_He has Emma_."

Charming stared at her for a moment, blinking a few times as he digested her statement. Finally, he bellowed. "RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"

Moments later, the sorcerer appeared in front of the duo, a scowl on his face. "You needn't shout, dearie, my hearing's still intact. What crisis do you need me to avert this time?"

"It's Cora," Prince Charming replied. "She's back, and she's intent on killing Emma."

Rumplestiltskin let out a cackle. "Back, is she? I guess Wonderland wasn't to her liking after all."

"She's searching for Regina," Snow said. "Cora's convinced the way to win back her affections is by letting her crush Emma's heart."

"Yes, well she did always have a peculiar way of expressing her love," Rumple replied.

His flippant attitude caused the prince's temper to flare, eyes widening to the point of nearly popping out of his head. Once again he began shouting. "Are you listening to a word we're saying? There's a murderess after our daughter. Our daughter who resides in your care! That means you're responsible for protecting her! Why are you so blasé about this?!"

Rumplestiltskin clicked his tongue, unmoved by the prince's outburst. "Where is your daughter now?"

Charming looked to Snow for an answer, which she readily provided. "Back at the cottage, I presume. She left quite a while ago."

"She'll certainly be back by now," Rumple said. "The horse is enchanted to expedite the journey and ensure she's in well before nightfall. Not that she's aware, of course. She'll be perfectly safe there, my entire grounds are warded to keep Cora out. "

"What if she leaves, though? Shouldn't we go to her - warn her of the danger?"

"Don't be preposterous. I'm not going to disturb the children at this late hour just to put them in a panic. They'll be in for the night, tucked safely into their beds. Tomorrow I'll go down to the cottage and explain the situation. If they need to travel elsewhere, I can provide protection not unlike the spell that keeps the two of you safe from Regina."

"And Cora?" asked Snow.

"Well, my dear, it seems that's your problem. As Bae's wife, I'll take responsibility for Emma. If you'd like help defeating Cora, well... I'll gladly oblige. But I must remind you, magic always comes with a price. Make sure it's one you're prepared to pay!" Rumplestiltskin's impish nature came to the forefront as he said this, eyes glinting as he flashed a grin at the prince.

"There's no need," Charming replied, the bitter memory of their last deal ringing in his mind. "You just keep Emma safe. _We'll _figure out how to take care of Cora."

"Don't even worry your pretty heads about your daughter. So long as she and Bae stay on my grounds, they'll be safe as can be."

* * *

At the stables, Emma unbridled the horse and stowed his tack, offering him only the barest of grooming. Once finished, she gave him a pat and an extra carrot, whispering an apology for cheating him out of the full brushing he deserved.

The duo exited the stable, cutting through the brush towards the ivy-covered wall that served as a perimeter for the grounds. Emma followed behind Bae, who had taken a purposeful lead as they exited the stable. She found herself puzzled when he passed the gate, gesturing for her to follow as he crept further down the wall. "Where are you going?" she'd whispered. His response was to hold a finger to his lips, reminding her to be quiet as they crept through the underbrush.

"Trust me," he whispered, words let out so softly that they were barely audible. Once he reached a spot that was to his liking, he swung his satchel around to rest against his back. He then hauled himself up the six-foot barrier, vines popping from the stone as his feet caught them for leverage. Once he'd managed to get atop the wall, he caught Emma's eye and nodded. She copied his motions, beginning to scale it herself. Unfortunately Bae's ascent had pulled the vines loose, making her climb significantly more challenging, and her first attempt was met with unmitigated failure as the vines slid down the wall and left her standing on the ground once more.

Bae scowled, pausing for a moment to think before he put a hand out towards her. "Give me your bag," he instructed, and she readily complied. Setting both bags on the wall, he maneuvered several feet to his right where a fresh set of ivy lay, roots still embedded in the wall. "Why don't you try again here," he suggested, and she gave a brisk nod, chomping on her lip as she considered the best route up. Finally she lunged at the wall, making it three-quarters of the way up before the vines began to give way. Suddenly she found her hand in his as he provided her with enough leverage to make it to the top.

"Thanks," she whispered, and he gave her a quick nod before swinging his legs to the back side of the wall. Jumping off, he landed with a thud, hitting the ground a bit harder than anticipated. Emma grimaced in sympathy as he stood up and shook himself off. He reached up for the bags and she handed them down, watching as he put their straps across his body. He then extended his arm up again, offering assistance for her journey to the ground.

She scowled and shook her head, prompting Bae to roll his eyes at her stubbornness. "Don't be stupid," he whispered, "There's no need for both of us to take a hard landing."

Emma shot him a glare even as she accepted his offer, wrapping fingers around the side of his hand. Using it for balance, she pushed herself off of the stones that had separated them from the rest of the world for so long. He tightened his grip as she hit the ground, ensuring that her landing was far more controlled that his.

Much to Emma's surprise, Bae proceeded to keep her hand firmly within his grasp as he started for the woods, giving her arm a tug and urging her to follow with a tilt of his head. She complied, almost without considering the direction as she found herself distracted by the warmth of the hand that held hers - and the realization that she'd not had reason to hold it since their dance at the ball. The faint stirring of _something_ that leapt up at his touch caused her to yank out of his grip. She hadn't the wherewithal at the moment to consider what such a reaction might mean, matters of life or death being far more pressing... nor was she sure she was even willing to offer it contemplation Instead, she jutted up her chin and fell into step, marching dutifully behind him.

* * *

**A/N** \- Thanks as always to textbookone for her beta and her advice on this chapter!

So our young heroes are off... where do you think they might be headed? Something tells me that dear Emma is in a world of trouble... and I don't mean from Cora.

Next up is a short interlude - and then we're on to the next stage of our adventure. I'd love to hear what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Apologies in advance for the short length of this portion. It's more of an "interlude" than a chapter; think of it as a bonus! I'm hard at work on the next (real) chapter.

Continuing thanks to textbookone for her beta and advice!

* * *

Hours after they'd set out, our young heroes trudged on in silence. Bae led the way, beating back the brush with a stick he'd scooped up. Though little had been said, Emma had gathered from his purposeful strides that he had a destination in mind. So long as she was deep in the woods and hidden from Cora, she wasn't terribly concerned about the destination, so she'd tried to quell the rising feeling of curiosity and place some trust in the boy who'd dropped his own life to protect her - again.

The silence served them well. Tired, cold and hungry, Emma found herself short of temper. Particularly when - try as she might to ignore it - she couldn't quite keep her thoughts from drifting back to the moment of their escape. Whatever had happened there, Bae seemed utterly unaffected, and that only served as greater cause for her to fixate on the situation. Had he felt it too? But then again, what was there to feel? A fleeting moment with emotions running high - absolutely nothing, Emma. Absolutely nothing.

Emma was distracted from her own thoughts when she found her stomach growling. She fished around in her bag, finally coming up with one of the oranges she'd persuaded Bae to let her keep.

"Really?"

Bae's voice broke her out of her reverie and she looked up to find him stopped in front of her, a strangely critical look upon his face. "What?" she replied, bristling at the criticism even without knowing its basis.

"You're eating? _Again_?"

"I'm hungry!"

"Uh huh." He shook his head. "Emma, it's the third piece of fruit you've gone for, and we've only barely just started our trek. Have you stopped to think about what we'll do once the food we've brought runs out? Perhaps considered rationing the meager supply?"

"You're the one who said to leave the bananas behind!"

Rolling his eyes, he ignored her protest. "Emma, you have got to _think_ about this. This isn't some madcap jaunt to a nearby castle where the staff will take care of you. We are out here in the forest, no shelter, no source of food or protection - or of anything, really. We've no clue how long we'll be out here. If you're not prepared for the reality of that, we'd be better off turning back and seeking protection from my father."

Emma glowered at him. At first she said nothing, instead shoving the orange back into her satchel. But then she began walking again, snatching the stick from Bae and taking her frustration out on the bushes. As she passed, he heard her mutter - something about her mother.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I said," she said, turning briefly to face him, "If my mother can make it out here, so I can I."

He sent her a confused look. "Your mother's running too? Why not go together?"

"Not now." She rolled her eyes. "Many years ago she lived as a bandit, hiding from Cora's daughter. Ironic. Seems it's a family trait." Cracking a wry smile, she continued. "At least I can take solace in the fact that I won't be passing the trait down to my children."

"Why's that?" Bae asked, confused. "Has this Cora character run out of relatives to send after your family?"

"No," she replied, spinning back to face him. "It's more a matter that unless we find a way out of the situation so kindly bestowed on us by your father, there won't _be_ any children to maintain the legacy. Or any legacy, really. Pity. At least from the standpoint of the monarchy. Oh well... I'm sure there's a cousin somewhere who will be happy to succeed me."

They walked in silence for a minute before Bae replied. "Are you okay with that?"

"The cousin? I'll be gone, why should I care?"

He frowned. "The lack of children."

Emma offered an indifferent shrug. "I mean, I was raised knowing I was expected to produce an heir. Responsibility to the kingdom and all. But I was also raised being told that my parents hoped I'd marry for love. They knew the latter wasn't a possibility, so why should I be held to the former?" She shrugged again, the conversation a bit too philosophical for her sleep-deprived brain. "You?"

He studied her for a long moment, contemplating his answer. Finally, he offered her his own shrug and began walking again. "Doesn't really matter much now, does it?"

She murmured her agreement and they walked on, plodding westward. At least, she thought it was westward, as the first rays of the morning had begun creeping over the horizon directly behind them. Like so many other things, she realized, it suddenly didn't matter much. Who she was - what her life was - weeks or days or even just hours prior, those things were gone and from the uncertainty of a loveless marriage to the terror of a psychotic sorceress, her lot in life at the moment was to simply exist.


	11. Chapter 11

"We've just about arrived," Bae said, turning to Emma as he broke the silence. It had been innumerable minutes since they'd spoken and her thoughts had long since drifted elsewhere. She'd followed Bae in a haze, changing directions with a pointed finger or a grunt, otherwise marching on towards a destination unknown. At his words she stopped, giving him her full attention.

"Where is it that you're taking me?"

"Here," Bae declared, approaching a moss-covered cluster of rocks.

"You brought me on a journey to... a pile of boulders?" Emma asked, incredulous.

"Do you trust me?"

"Bae, it's rocks."

"Do you _trust_ me?" he asked again, finding her eyes and speaking each word slowly and with purpose.

"I suppose," she replied, reluctance clear in her voice.

"Then come here." Walking to the left of the outcropping, Bae checked over his shoulder to ensure she'd followed. Carefully he picked his way to the largest rock in the rear of the formation and placed his back against it, flattening himself out as much as possible. Emma watched as he proceeded to squeeze between the large rock and the somewhat smaller one sitting in front of it. Once he'd moved a few steps in, he gestured for her to do the same, and despite her skepticism she complied. She matched Bae's stance, tracing his steps as she slid between the boulders. He offered a hand to help her along, but she rejected it with a quick shake of the head. She opened her mouth to ask where he could possibly be leading them, but before she could get a word out, he disappeared backwards - appearing to be swallowed by the mountain itself.

"Bae?" In her shock, the name came out as a squeak.

"Keep coming, few more steps," his disembodied voice replied.

Emma did as instructed, discovering in due course where he had gone. As she slid through the channel in the rocks, a gap appeared behind her, hidden completely from view until she was on top of it. Judging from the way the gap faded into darkness, she'd find a cave lying behind it.

Bae's voice emanated from the cavern. "Careful, it slopes down here."

"Where?" she asked, straining her eyes. The mouth of the cave allowed for perhaps three feet of light, and Bae - along with the promised slope - lay beyond its reach.

"Here," he replied, and his hand appeared out of the shadows. "Take my hand, I'll guide you along."

With great reluctance, she took the barest grasp of his fingers and allowed him to lead her into the cave. "Watch the slope," he repeated. Taking another step forward, she discovered what he meant, the floor seeming to drop out from under her in the darkness. Stumbling, she felt his grip tighten as he steadied her.

"You should have warned me about the slope," she said, catching her balance. Judging from his chuckle, he could hear her wry smile even as he couldn't see it.

"Just a few more steps," he reassured her, answering the question she hadn't spoken. Unsteadily she complied, bumping into him at the bottom of the incline. "Wait there," he instructed. Left standing in the darkness, she could hear his footsteps moving a few feet away from where he'd left her.

A soft scraping noise followed, followed by a most welcome illumination. "There's a vein of flint that runs through the cave wall," he said, the stick he'd been holding now burning as a makeshift torch. "Come along, we've got a bit further to go."

She followed behind, taking care to avoid the jagged bits of rock that threatened to pummel and trip her. "How is it that you know this cave so well?" she asked, finally betraying the curiosity that had been building since they'd entered the cavern.

"Did you not ever wonder why my Papa allows me to leave the grounds only when accompanied?" Her eyes narrowed in confusion, not comprehending his meaning. "This isn't the first time I've run, Emma."

Her brow furrowed. "So your father knows of this cave?"

Bae shook his head. "He has no idea. He caught me when I was out foraging for food. I refused to tell him where I'd been staying."

"So no one knows this is here?"

He stopped, finally reading her concern. "Just me. Well, and now you, obviously. We should be fine to stay for a few days, regroup, let the threat blow over - whatever. At a minimum it buys us time." He blew out a breath, watching uncertainty linger on Emma's face. "Listen, it's not much, but it's shelter - away from the elements and hidden from view. Would you like the grand tour?"

The prospect of shelter was enough to lighten Emma's spirits a bit, and her eyebrow jutted up, willing to humor him. "There's enough cave to make it a _grand_ tour?"

"Well... grand may be a bit of an exaggeration," Bae said with a chuckle.

"I see," she replied, a teasing glint in her eye. "So perhaps the mediocre tour then."

He smiled, relieved to see the ease creeping back into their interactions. "All right, then, may I offer the princess the mediocre tour of our new home?"

Emma giggled, nodding. Bae gestured for her to walk with him, matching his stride to hers as they set off. "Back there is the entrance," he began, gesturing back the way they'd come. "The alcove to the left will hold a fire and be the best space for sleeping. Beyond us is another fifteen or twenty feet of corridor, not good for much of anything at all. And to the back -"

His words trailed off as he realized she had stopped walking, instead staring at the alcove he has just pointed out.

"We'll be sleeping there?" she asked, concern apparent on her face.

"We'll have to share the space. The cave doesn't exactly come in a two-bedroom model." He cringed inwardly, her discomfort at the cottage's sleeping arrangements springing to mind. He could only hope he'd earned enough trust in the ensuing weeks that she'd feel unthreatened at the prospect of a shared space.

She continued staring at the alcove, concern remaining. "But... there's no beds."

"Of course not, it's a _cave_."

Finally looking at Bae, she furrowed her brow. "Wherever will we sleep?"

"I thought I'd build you a magnificent bed from the trees in the surrounding woods, then stuff a mattress using the wool from the finest sheep in the nearby villages. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to allow me to cobble the leftovers into a pallet for myself, since no settee is available."

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious, Bae."

"Well my dear princess, a preposterous question deserves a preposterous answer. Wherever do you think we'll be sleeping?"

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This floor looks neither warm nor comfortable."

"It's not," he conceded. "Welcome to life on the run." Observing her sour expression, he sighed before changing the subject. "Come, let me show you the rest of our fine palace. We have an elegant water feature at the rear that I am sure you'll just adore."

"Ooh, a water feature," she enthused, playing along. She trailed a few steps behind him as the sound of rushing water became apparent. Before long he stopped, thrusting an arm across her path to ensure she did the same.

"Here," he said, holding the torch at arm's length to illuminate the sight before them. A narrow waterfall came from a shelf somewhere above their heads, falling past where they stood into a chasm that extended an untold distance into the ground below.

"Goodness," she conceded, "that _is_ quite impressive." She leaned forward, attempting to catch a better view of the pit into which the waterfall tumbled.

"Careful," he warned, "stay back from the edge. I'm not sure how far down it goes but the fall would undoubtedly be fatal. I once dropped a torch down to gauge the distance and it faded from view before the light was extinguished."

"My," Emma replied, shrinking back a bit.

"Nonetheless, it is a source of fresh water and therefore quite useful. Just be certain to exercise caution around it."

"Without question," she replied, taking another step back. As Bae continued examining the waterfall, Emma leaned against the cave's wall, resting her head on it and letting out a yawn.

This seemed to spark the reminder for Bae that sleep was a necessary task. "Here, hold this," he said, handing the makeshift torch off to Emma. She watched, slightly confused as he darted about the cave, grabbing small sticks and branches that were littered around. Once he'd gathered an armful, he nodded his head back towards the way they'd come in. She followed behind him as he entered the alcove, depositing the armful into a circle of stones that she'd not noticed upon her first examination. "Fire pit," he offered, arranging the twigs before beckoning for the torch. She handed it over and he slipped it into the center of the pile.

Once the tinder caught fire, the room gained enough illumination for Emma to get a good look around. The alcove was nothing special - eight feet wide or so, maybe a bit deeper, but it had a level floor and a ceiling high enough to vent the smoke from the fire. As she glanced about, Bae pulled his blanket from his satchel, folded it in half and placed it on the floor. Once Emma had done the same, she handed him her bag and he placed them both at the head of his makeshift bed. "I'll organize them once we've gotten some rest," he said, crawling in between the blanket's layers.

She nodded, climbing into her own bedding. Though the fire between them provided light and warmth, she found that it also provided unanticipated privacy, blocking her view of Bae's sleeping space - a matter of which she was of mixed mind, given the unfamiliar setting. The problem was solved by moving the blanket a up a couple of feet, allowing him to be brought back into her line of sight - if she stretched - and she decided she was satisfied with the solution. As she lay down again her stomach let out an audible growl, and she heard Bae laugh. Rustling followed a moment later, and then he addressed her - "Here, catch."

Reflexes took over as she extended her hands into the air and caught the item being tossed to her. Upon realizing it was the orange Bae had talked her out of eating earlier, Emma chuckled. "Finally giving me permission to eat it then?"

"We'd never sleep otherwise, what with the racket from your stomach!"

Emma threw something back at him in response - a twig or a leaf maybe, he wasn't entirely sure, given that it landed in the fire. His response was laughter. Then he continued, a teasing lilt to his voice - "Now, never let anyone say your husband doesn't take care of you."

Emma chuckled again, speaking between bites. "Ah, yes. You've found us a fine home and fed me a gourmet meal. What more could a girl want?"

"A choice in the husband, perhaps?"

Emma roared, the levity a good release from the stress of the day. "Well now you're just talking crazy!"

They laughed again, mutual solace found in their shared plight. Both parties exhausted, the conversation faded out, the alcove filled with nothing more than silence and the scent of the orange peel Emma had tossed into the fire.

* * *

"RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"

The ageless sorcerer sighed; Cora's tantrum had been going on for almost ten minutes. He supposed he should head down and deal with it. Folding over the paper he'd been writing on, he scrawled Baelfire's name on the front and waved his hand, sending it off to the cottage's kitchen table. "Emma's in danger," the note said, "it's imperative that you both remain on the grounds. I'll explain soon."

Another flick of his wrist and he was dressed and standing just inside the castle's gate. "Cora," he said, his face deadpan. "It's been a while."

"Come through that gate and face me on the outside, you loathsome man," she railed, "instead of hiding behind the wards like the coward you are!"

"Very well," he said, wrought iron swinging open as he strode through, the gates narrowly missing Cora herself. "And what brings you out to visit this fine day?"

She pursed her lips. "I think you know well why I've come."

"Wonderland not to your liking, eh dearie? Decide to replace your heart and give our land another go?"

"Ha!" she declared, giving a sharp laugh. "I'd have to be a fool to suffer such sentimentality. No, I've come to reconcile with my daughter."

"Your daughter! Why, I haven't seen Regina in a number of years - fifteen, perhaps. How's she been?"

"It's been that long since you banished her?!"

Rumple chuckled. "Banished her, did I? Who told you such a thing."

Cora's eyes narrowed, venom steeping her voice. "Snow White."

"Ahhh, our esteemed ruler." He paused for a moment, anticipation of his response lingering in the air. Finally he gave a flippant shrug. "Well, who am I to deny an accusation made by the princess herself? For the sake of argument, let's say I banished Regina fifteen years ago. "

She stood silent for a moment, rage brimming under the surface. "So you know where she is, then."

"Perhaps I do, or, perhaps I did," he said, pacing circles around Cora as he spoke. "It's been many years, after all. Even if I we operate under the belief that I know where she was sent, it seems distinctly possible she may no longer be there."

"Don't play games with me, Rumplestiltskin! Do you know where my daughter is?"

He eyed Cora for a moment, finally offering her an indifferent shrug. "Here's what I know. Your daughter remained such a nuisance after her capture - spitting at the guards, throwing her meals back into their faces, trying again and again to spell them into rodents - that the royals perceived her to still be a threat. Their sentence was exile. To where? All I can tell you is that there are twenty-seven known magical realms. It's going to take a while to visit them all. If I were you, I'd probably get started."

Cora glared. "You haven't any other information?"

"Well I'd venture a guess that she's not here in the Enchanted Forest." He smirked, raising a finger to punctuate his next statement. "One down, twenty-six to go!"

"Come now, Rumple," she said, stepping close to him and placing a hand upon his chest. "I know you've no love lost for those idiots who run the kingdom. Align with me, help me to find my daughter, and together we'll do away with the young princess, overthrow the royals, and take back the power for ourselves. It can be like it should have been - you, me, and Regina. We could be unstoppable!"

Rumple chuckled, finding Cora's ploy entirely transparent. "A tempting offer indeed, but I'm afraid that would be a bit counterproductive. You see, the young princess has been placed into my safekeeping. I'll be seeing to it that no harm comes to her." A look of shock overtook Cora's face, and he anticipated her question of 'why' before she could ask it. "Let's just say it was a deal that I... couldn't refuse."

"You're a fool, Rumplestiltskin," she replied, shoving him away. "And here I've spent all of these years thinking that we understood each other."

"Oh, we do, Cora - we do." He let his distaste linger a minute longer before bidding her farewell with a wave of his hand. "Off with you now. I haven't time for your games. And you haven't time to waste, there are two dozen realms awaiting your presence!"

She scowled at him, vitriol in her glare. Her eyes remained trained on him even as a cloud of magic enveloped her, spiriting her off to somewhere - he neither knew nor cared where. He only hoped she'd take the bait, leaving to search for Regina and letting peace reign for a while.

Cora dismissed, Rumplestiltskin pushed open his gates, opting to stroll through the grounds instead of returning to his castle straightaway. The walk would help him think, and that was something he needed to do. The challenge was to figure out the best way to keep Cora at bay without upsetting the delicate sensibilities of his son or the royals. As much as he'd like to just remove himself from the feud, his son was wrapped up in it by way of his marriage, and Rumple wasn't about to let him get caught up in any of Cora's mess.

Perhaps that was the solution - to release the children from the marriage, removing Bae from the situation and letting the blood feud continue without his involvement. But then, he'd gone to so much work to arrange it all. And to make matters more complicated, Bae had become strangely protective of the princess. When last he'd seen the boy, it was "Emma this" and "Emma that" - and since when were they on first name bases anyways? He had clearly come to hold the girl in high regard, so perhaps his plan was beginning to work. And if that was the case, well - maybe continuing down this path was for the best after all.

Speaking of the duo, their cottage lay just ahead. He'd never ventured into their space, finding it much more effective to allow them to come to him. They'd come up often enough anyways, with one problem or another, and then there was no chance of his being flatly rejected at the door. But given the circumstances, he felt a visit was certainly warranted, so he stepped onto the porch and rapped on the cottage door.

And he waited. And then waited some more. No answer came and so he knocked again, repeating the same process with the same results.

Perhaps they were out. Likely Bae had coerced the princess into accompanying him on one of the strolls he was so fond of. Or perhaps they were ignoring him - displeased with the intrusion into their home. Certainly his son had done plenty of that when he was living in the castle. He placed his hand on the doorknob - it was _his_ cottage, after all! But then he hesitated. They'd likely be up to talk with him soon, and better to win favor by not barging in. He was on shaky ground with this whole situation, and his success at regaining Bae's affections hinged on playing his cards just right.

Slowly, hesitantly, he dropped his arm and turned away. Stepping off the porch, he cast a glance back at the cottage - still no sign of movement. He pulled in a deep breath, trying to tell himself that the unease in the pit of his stomach was just the unfamiliar feeling of relinquishing control. He'd send another note, he thought as he walked away, asking them to stop by the following day. That would allay his fears while allowing them their perception of autonomy. They needn't know about the barrier spell he planned to cast the moment he arrived back at the castle - a backup to ensure their compliance.

* * *

Confusion enveloped Emma as she opened her eyes - cold, aching and surrounded by darkness. She extracted her hands from the cocoon formed by her blanket, scrubbing at her eyes as she pieced together the events of the last day. Or perhaps it two days? She wasn't sure anymore. Her parents, the market, Cora, running - all events that led to her current predicament. They'd arrived at the cave in the morning, that much she remembered, but how long had passed since then she had no way to know.

A small fire flickered in the ring. She took advantage of its light to glance around, finding herself alone in the alcove where they'd laid for slumber. She fought her way out of the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders as she stood and made her way into the depths of the cave. The firelight provided barely enough illumination for the alcove, leaving her to search for her companion without the benefit of anything to reduce the murky blackness of the cave.

Hearing rushing water to her left, she recalled the peril of the waterfall and gave a shudder. Instead she ventured right, running a hand along the cave wall as she strained her eyes in search of Bae. He couldn't have gone far - he wouldn't have left her - and the cave just wasn't that big. She picked forward cautiously, but the lack of light was not kind to her. In the course of just a few steps she managed to smash her leg into a bit of rock that protruded from the cave wall.

"Ow!" she hollered, dropping down to rub her injured shin. "Damnit!"

"Emma?"

She turned her head to see a dull glow making its way towards her. "I'll be fine, just walked into the wall," she called back. "I couldn't find you!"

"I left a torch by your bedside," Bae said, finally stepping into view. "Thought you would light it in the fire."

Emma found herself smiling at the sight of him, shoulders releasing tension that she didn't even realize she'd been holding. Bracing a hand on the wall, she steadied herself enough to stand up. "I didn't notice. I was far more focused on finding where you'd gone."

"Here and there," Bae replied. A grin came over his face as he showed off the spear he held in his right hand. "I caught a fish!"

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, her nose giving an involuntary wrinkle. "What kind?"

"What kind?" Despite the dim lighting, the frustration tinging his voice told her that he'd caught her change in expression. "What do you mean, what kind? The edible kind, that's what!"

Emma drew back. "I just - I'm most impressed you were able to spear a fish straight out of a waterfall!"

He shook his head, beginning to walk back towards the alcove and gesturing for her to follow. "You can stay your flattery - the waterfall is merely where I cleaned it. There's a stream about a quarter mile from here. I grabbed some tinder on the way back in, and leaves to pad the floor for sleeping. They're just inside the mouth of the cave, actually, I was in a rush to get everything in before the rains came - quite a downpour, you know, surprising for so late in the season!"

He prattled on, not noticing that Emma had ceased walking, staring at him instead with pursed lips. "You went out of the cave? Left me sleeping, wandered off by yourself. Really, Bae - whatever were you thinking?!"

He stopped, looking back at her with his waning patience painted all over his face. "I was _thinking_ that it did little good to save you from Cora only to have you die of starvation. And that while I was out I might as well grab a few other things, limited comfort though they might bring. But I suppose in the future I'll wait, let the princess get her beauty rest and then ask for permission to handle our pressing needs." He shook his head, grabbing a forked stick he must have found on his errand and propping the speared fish over the fire. "Entirely foolhardy, thinking my efforts might be met with a bit of appreciation."

"Of course I'm appreciative! I was just worried you'd put yourself in harm's way. What's gotten into you? I thought we were past this bickering nonsense weeks ago!"

He shrugged, focusing intently on tending to the fire. "Just tired, I suppose."

"Fatigue's led you to lose all that you've learned this last month? Come now. Give me more credit than that. What's really going on?"

He shrugged again, still maintaining his focus on the fire. "This isn't for the faint of heart, you know? Being out here. There's much to be done, and no one else to do it."

She squinted at him, still not entirely sure she understood his upset. "You're mad because I slept when work needed to be done? You should have woken me when you roused if you needed the help!"

He shook his head. "You needed the sleep."

"No more so than you," she said with a frown. "Or perhaps even less, based on your surly disposition. How long was I out for, anyways."

He responded with a shrug, his focus on poking around in the fire with a stick. "Quite a while. It's pressing on towards sunset."

"But not yet nightfall," Emma supplied. She thought for a minute, considering the hours since their arrival and the list of tasks that Bae had accomplished. The math didn't quite add up. "Did you sleep at all, Bae?"

He shrugged again. "I closed my eyes for a bit."

"Baelfire..."

He sighed. "I tried to sleep, but I couldn't stop thinking of all the things to do - all the things we'd need - and so finally I gave up and went to do them."

"Well no wonder you're so irritable then. You haven't slept in well over a day!" She let out her own sigh, kicking a stray pebble across the ground as she continued. "I get that you're tired, but don't be angry with me. I didn't ask you to forgo sleep on my behalf. If you're so irritable as to snap at me for being concerned about your safety, you need to figure out how to get some rest."

He let out a soft harrumph, disposition not improved by the lecture. "I can't, Emma, I need to-"

"You need to do nothing," she said, shrugging off the blanket and dumping it near the cave wall. "I'll take the torch and bring down the items you left at the entrance. You stay here and tend to the fish. Once you've eaten, it's off to sleep with you."

He scowled. "I'm not a child, Emma!"

"Then how about you stop acting like one and accept some help?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping down as he staked at the ashes under the fish. "Fine. I'll have dinner plated when you return."

He held true to his word. It took Emma more trips than she'd anticipated - having one arm occupied by the torch - but by the time she'd gotten Bae's pile of roughage relocated, he had dinner ready. He'd scrounged up a slab of slate from somewhere to serve as a plate. Forked twigs served as utensils. Half of a fish wasn't much of a dinner, but it would be enough to keep hunger pains at bay. According to Bae, somewhere in that pile were the greens that he'd need the following day to make soup from the leftover head of the fish they'd just consumed.

She talked him into letting her arrange his bed while he ate, supple twigs and a layer of leaves providing the barest of insulation from the cave's uneven floor. She assembled hers as well before scarfing down dinner in silence, watching as Bae sorted the items from their traveling bags into organized piles.

"The fish was good," she said by way of a thank you. "I'd like to rinse my hands before bed. Will you come along to hold the torch?"

He nodded, rising to his feet and once again lighting the recently extinguished stick in the fire. They walked the few paces to the waterfall in silence, Emma washing her hands and face and then taking the torch so that Bae could do the same. As they walked back to the alcove, he shuffled his feet, eyes trained on the ground. "I'm sorry for my outburst," he said, mumbling. "It wasn't right."

She squinted at him, at a loss for an answer. She'd been over it for a while. Finally she offered up an "It's okay," a lame excuse for a response. A few more moments of silence and she offered up a second try. "You know you can talk to me, right? We're in this together, it'll all be easier if we rely upon each other."

He pulled in a breath, studying her, weighing her words. Finally he must have decided the offer was genuine, as he offered up a second try of his own. "I'm a bit overwhelmed, truth be told. Running seemed like a reasonable idea yesterday. I've done this before, I know I can make it out here. But keeping us both alive - it's a daunting task. And if I fail..." He released a deep sigh, shaking his head. "I have to keep you safe. There's no other option."

She turned to face him, torch playing with their shadows on the cave's walls. "I know you feel responsible for me, Bae - but that doesn't mean this whole mess becomes your burden! We've not run off for your benefit. It's for mine, and I'm perfectly capable of carrying my weight here. Further, even if this were to be entirely your responsibility," she said, wandering back into the alcove as they talked, "You'd be of no use as my caretaker if you haven't taken care of yourself."

He furrowed his brow, no doubt preparing an objection. She was in no mood to hear it. "Go to sleep," she instructed him. "Tomorrow's demands will better be met if you're well rested."

Though he scowled, he dumped some more tinder into the fire and crawled onto his pallet. "We'll need to eat again tomorrow," he said, eyes sliding closed even as he fought it.

"And so we will," Emma replied. "You've already made preparations for soup. But for now... go to sleep, Bae."

She awaited another objection, but his only response was a soft snore.

* * *

A/N - Thanks as always to textbookone for the beta read and practical advice! Much appreciated :) And thank you to all who have given feedback on the story. Feedback is food for starving authors!


	12. Chapter 12

It took until the third night in the cave for Emma to work up the nerve to ask the question she'd been pondering since the woods. She sat leaning against the cave wall, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees as she enjoyed the comfortable silence. Across the way, Bae worked at sorting and organizing their things - some strange nightly habit he'd established since their arrival.

As she watched him, Emma sat thinking about their discussion on the journey to the cave; how much he knew about her plans prior to their marriage and how little she knew of his. Come to think of it, aside from their talk about his parents' union she knew little of his life prior to their meeting. And despite his claim that it didn't matter, she couldn't help but find herself curious about the course he'd been forced to alter when his father's ultimatum was handed down. So she broke the silence, her voice soft and pensive. "Bae?"

He picked his head up with a "Hmmm?," focus still on the task at hand.

"What hopes did you have for your life?"

The question garnered his full attention. He sat back on his haunches, turning to face her and letting out a small chuckle. "Well, that's a bit of a heavy question. I suppose that depends on what you mean, exactly. Or maybe rather _when_ you mean."

She looked back at him, tilting her head to the side and furrowing her brow. "I just... after our conversation the other night... I just wondered. You know what the plan had been for my life, but I've no idea what your future looked like before I disrupted it. So I suppose I meant in general, had your father not decided your fate for you."

He made an attempt at a smile as he responded. "My life hasn't been as straightforward as yours, Emma. You can correct me if I'm wrong, but I assume you'd pretty much always known your path, growing up as the sole heir to the throne." She nodded, though the expression on her face indicated that perhaps he had oversimplified the situation. "For me... I grew up as a simple spinner's son. There was a girl next door - Morraine - same age as me, came from a family just as poor as mine. She was probably the only real friend I ever had. She never looked at my father as if he was a coward, and she didn't shy away from me once he became the Dark One, either. I guess I always just figured I'd marry her."

"But you didn't?" she asked before catching herself. "Well, I suppose it's obvious that you didn't - we're here. So what happened?"

"My Papa," he replied. "Not surprisingly."

"He objected?"

"No, nothing like that. I, uh... I left. Kind of had to. He'd changed, you know? He took on his curse to save me, but it just ended up costing me in the end. I couldn't stay to see what he did to people. I begged him to come with me, but he wouldn't. I ended up going alone."

"Where did you go?"

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

"Try me," she replied, unfolding her legs and leaning forward. "After the month I've had, little would surprise me."

He sighed, moving to settle himself on his bed as he spoke. "All right. I was fourteen - and desperate - so I called to the blue fairy. She gave me a magic bean, told me it was the only way to save my Papa."

"Truly?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'd heard folklore of such a thing, but thought they were merely tales."

"Unfortunately not," he replied. "I was told it was the last one, though given everything I've experienced since I'm unsure the truth of that."

She hummed, letting silence reign for a moment before she prodded him forward. "So did you use it? The bean?"

"I did," he replied, looking down and tracing the pattern of his blanket with his fingers. "It was supposed to take Papa and I to a land where his curse would be dormant - a land without magic. But when the time came - " He faltered, breath catching in his throat. "I've never really told anyone all of this. I'm not sure what's possessing me to do so now, honestly."

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with the bonds of matrimony we've been forcibly entered into," she postured, a wry smile sneaking onto her face. When he didn't smile back, she continued more sincerely. "I really do want to know, Bae. We've been married upwards of a month and I still know very little about you."

"Or I you, Emma."

She didn't necessarily agree - at this point, he knew her better than almost anyone. But that was a discussion for later, so instead of arguing she sent him a gentle smile. "Since we're stuck here together for the foreseeable future, it seems a particularly opportune time to learn." Again, he did not respond, so she pressed a bit harder. "Please. I'm really trying here."

He met her gaze and found her looking at him imploringly, her expression sincere. With a curt nod, he forced himself to continue. "When I threw down the bean and the portal opened, I took his hand and jumped in. But Papa... he didn't. He just... let me go." He swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in his throat. When he looked across at Emma, he found her looking back at him, mouth slightly agape, a horrified expression on her face.

"Oh, Bae, I'm so sorry," she said. "I had no idea. That must have been terrifying for you."

He shrugged again, his well-practiced armor sliding back into place. "I figured out pretty quickly that he valued his magic more than anything. At least on the other side I didn't have to watch him hurting people."

"The other side?"

A crooked smile spring onto his face, some sort of humor that Emma didn't quite get. "I spent about six months in a place called London, in a land without magic. Ended up going from there to Neverland."

The corner of her mouth flickered up into a small smile. "Didn't know I'd married a realm-jumper."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, believe me."

Her brow furrowed again. "So after Neverland you came back here?"

He shrugged. "Was brought back here is more like it, yeah."

Emma raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. "Sounds like a whirlwind few years."

"Yeah. I guess it does." Silence reigned again, Emma digesting the tale as Bae tried to smash the past hurts back down. It didn't take her long to resume the conversation, and he found himself thankful for the distraction from his own thoughts.

"Whatever happened to Morraine?" she asked - and if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn there was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

"I don't know, honestly. I hope she had a long and happy life. Whatever her life was, she passed on long ago."

Confusion clouded Emma's face. "I thought you said she was your age?"

"She was. The thing about Neverland, though, is that there is no time there. So while it felt like one long, endless night to me, a couple of centuries had passed by the time I was brought back to my father."

"So you're..."

Bae squinted, trying to do the math. "Roughly 278? I think. Papa won't tell me exactly."

Emma made a face. "That's a bit disconcerting, Bae."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to upset the princess."

She shook her head, indicating no ill will. "I'm far from upset, more... intrigued. How does that work, exactly? Do you _feel_ really old? You don't look it, certainly."

"Thanks, I think?" He laughed. "It's... different. It certainly didn't feel as if I lived a couple hundred years while I was there. I spent most of my time trying to stay alive - spent some time living in a cave not unlike this one. Physically, I didn't age at all, I was stuck at fifteen for the duration. It's like time just works _differently_ there. I don't feel terribly much older than the nineteen I am, except for knowing how to survive on my own. It feels like I've been doing that for as long as I can remember."

Emma frowned. "That's terrible, Bae." The more she learned about the boy, the more she felt his insistence on playing caretaker was completely the opposite of how things should be. Being abandoned at every turn only seemed to make him intent on protecting those around him - including her - from that same depth of loss.

He shrugged, gesturing at the cave around them. "Seems to me the knowledge can be useful from time to time. Like when you have to hide a princess in a cave. Right?"

"I suppose." She stared at him for a long moment, a small smile creeping onto her face. "You do it too, you know."

"Do what?"

"Duck behind a mask when things get uncomfortable."

He sighed, fidgeting. "Seems it's a common reaction. I'll spare you the cold shoulder."

Emma scowled. "You'd known me a week, Bae."

"And? You've known me a month."

She studied him for a moment. "A lot has happened in that month. I feel like we're better..." Trailing off, she searched for the words. "Better able to understand each other."

"I suppose that's fair," he replied, sending her a guarded smile. "Maybe we should both work at dropping the masks then."

Emma let out a small harrumph. "We'll have to see about that. It's a lot of years of practice to toss it aside." Then she grinned. "You more than me, I suppose."

He shook his head, dropping it to his hands. "Holding it against me already, are you?"

"Not in the least. Merely teasing."

"Because things got too real?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your fault this time."

She sighed. "We're certainly a pair, aren't we?"

"That we are, my dear princess. That we are."

* * *

The kingdom's rulers were doing their best to distract themselves from the matters that threatened to swallow all of their thoughts. Though they hated their daughter being imprisoned so far away from them, they were in agreement that leaving her under the charge of the Dark One was likely the safest place for her at the moment. And so, in an attempt to balance the needs of their family with the needs of the kingdom, they moved their focus to the people who relied on them for leadership.

As such, Charming had just arrived back from the village, greeting his wife with a passing kiss before depositing himself on the chaise next to her desk in her study.

"And how is winter preparation faring?" Snow asked him.

"Well! The grain stores are nearly full, corn is topped off in the silos and the smokehouses have been very productive."

"That's wonderful! I don't want to run the risk of another winter like the one we had when Emma was eight."

Emma. Snow had forgotten the unspoken rule - not mentioning their daughter's name lest thoughts be pulled from the subject at hand. Sure enough, she watched as her husband's jaw tightened, fists clenching up as he pulled in a sharp breath through his nose.

"She's safe, Charming. Rumplestiltskin has given his word. I know he's not our favorite character, but-"

The prince's temper erupted. "Why is it you insist on trusting that monster?!"

Snow sent him a soft smile. "He led you to me, didn't he?"

Charming pushed out a frustrated breath, doing his best to steady his temper and not snap at his wife. "Snow, I love that you try to see the best in everyone, but there are times when-"

He was cut off as a whirl of magic erupted in the corner of the room. Suddenly Cora appeared, a placid smile on her face. Setting eyes on the prince, her expression quickly turned to a scowl. "Oh, dear. I came to talk to Snow, not _you_," she said, snapping her fingers in his direction.

He disappeared and she looked satisfied - at least until she registered Snow's squeak and look of horror. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little face about him. I didn't send him far. He'll be back within the hour. I wanted a chance to chat with you, just us girls, you know?" Cora stepped closer to Snow, picking up a lock of dark hair and wrapping it around her finger. "We used to be so close, back before Regina sent me away. You used to be able to tell me anything."

Snow scowled. "You took what I told you in confidence and killed a man!"

"Oh, posh, that stable boy was nothing but a distraction for my Regina." She sighed. "Alas, Regina didn't see it that way. I'd so like the chance to make it up to her, but I need to find her first. Dearest Snow, you know what it's like to be separated from your daughter. Mother to mother, won't you tell me where mine is?"

Snow stiffened; mention of Emma by Cora made her anxiety rise even further. "I told you, I don't know where she is. Rumplestiltskin-"

"It's funny that you blame it on him. I went to visit and he implied exactly the opposite."

"He did?"

"Yes, my dear, he did. Now tell me, why is that?"

Snow paused, thinking. "Why does that man do anything he does?"

Cora laughed, peals of near-maniacal laughter leaving Snow to wonder if she'd finally crossed the line into completely mad. "Such a marvelous question! Why _does_ he do these things. Like protecting your daughter. What could you possibly have offered him to secure that deal? Riches, livestock, land, a trinket? Clearly not your firstborn, that would have been counterproductive." She made a face, pondering the mystery. "Though... she's not here at the castle, nor has there been news of the pomp surrounding a royal wedding..." Cora gasped, taking the look of guilt that crept onto Snow's face as confirmation of her suspicions. "Why, you sold out your daughter in order to guarantee her safety."

"We didn't sell her out!" Snow cried, defending herself against her guilty conscience. "She married his son."

The dropping of pin would have been audible in the silence that followed. "_Rumple_ has a _son_?" Cora asked, and Snow would have sworn there was a hint of hurt in her incredulous answer. As the sorceress recovered from her shock, she gathered her wits about her, shooting accusatory daggers at Snow. "You married your little princess off to the son of the Dark One?! My, you _must_ have been desperate."

Snow, having taken advantage of Cora's shock to recompose herself, rolled her eyes. "Don't be preposterous. The children fell in love. You know my Emma, there's no telling her what to do once she's set her mind to something." She found herself surprised at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. It was done to protect Emma, she told herself, keeping consistent with the story they'd told at the ball. If Cora knew the truth, she'd have used it against them, some way, some how. This was to protect Emma. "I was heartbroken at the time, so young and she'd left home already. But now I'm glad - she's tucked safely inside the walls of the Dark Castle with Baelfire... and protected from _you_."

"Rumplestiltskin can be persuaded, my dear."

Snow scrambled for a comeback, something in keeping with the tale rather than alluding to her daughter's place as an investment. A thought occurred to her, an offhanded comment from the ball creeping into her conscience. Though the concept left her ill at ease, it might be the thing that would convince Cora that Emma was untouchable. She drew in a breath, reminding herself yet again what Cora was capable of, and forced the lie out - for Emma.

"Of all the faults I find in that monster, he takes his responsibility to his family quite seriously. So he'll protect Emma - after all, what if she's carrying his grandchild?"

Cora didn't need to know the impossibility of that situation. The threat worked, leaving the sorceress trapped without a rebuttal. Her frustration was palpable, not only expressed on her face but through the maelstrom she unleashed. Wind whipped through the study, ripping paintings off the wall and sending books and ledgers flying. "I'll find a way, dear Snow, don't you worry about that. I'll find where Regina is and I'll find your precious daughter and make no mistake: Rumplestiltskin or no, we _will_ have our vengeance for the havoc you wreaked on our family!" And with that, she was gone.

The smoke had barely cleared when Charming arrived at the door, breathless from his run back to the castle. His eyes grew wide as he looked about the room. "What happened here?"

Snow let out a deep sigh. "Cora."

* * *

"Papa, NO!"

The now-familiar shout echoed throughout the cavern, far more deafening than usual. It awoke Emma with a start, leaving her heart racing as she blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings in the glow of the dying embers. She tossed off her blanket, picking her way around the fire to where Bae lay thrashing on his pallet.

Finding a way to crouch near him was not terribly easy, what with their supplies at the top of his bed and the fire next to him, but Emma managed. She brushed a hand across his hair, reassuring him - "You're okay, Bae, you're not alone, I'm right here." Her heart ached as she watched him fight invisible foes, knowing now what his father had put him through. It felt like an eternity that she crouched there, reassuring him, longer than it ever had in the cottage. Luckily their new setting hadn't lessened her ability to calm him and eventually he returned to restful sleep.

She found the candle shoved to the back of Bae's stash, near the wall of the cave. Scooping it up, Emma held it to the fire and managed to get its wick lit off of a small flame. After searching for a moment, she managed to find a spot that was flat enough to set it down. Her thoughts were swimming as she crawled back onto her own pallet. She'd done her best not to imagine what Bae saw in his nightmares, but every piece he added to the puzzle made that more and more difficult. He'd clearly been through much more than she'd ever imagined.

She drifted into an uneasy slumber, only to be awoken a short while later by the soft whoosh of the candle being blown out. She turned to look across the alcove at Bae. The soft glow from the embers provided just enough illumination for her to see that he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Something must have tipped him off that she was awake as he began speaking in a hushed tone, gaze still fixed skyward.

"It's the same every time. My father... he's got my hand, fingers wrapped around mine as I'm dangling over that pit. And then he opens his fingers and just... lets go. And I fall away, away from him, away from the only home I've ever known. I just watch him as I fall, loving his magic and his power, choosing it over me... loving it more than me."

Emma remained silent as he poured his heart out, uncertain of how to respond and feeling silence the most reverent option. She listened as he steadied shaky breathing, ragged breaths becoming clearer as the moments passed.

"I'd thought I was having fewer since I moved down to the cottage. Figured it was being away from my father. Turns out you were just catching them before I woke myself up. The number of times I awoke in the morning to find a candle burning..." He turned to look at her, eyes trained on her shape in the disappearing light. "Why'd you feel the need to comfort me?"

The leaves beneath her rustled as she shrugged. "It was only decent."

She could imagine his brow furrowing as he studied her, lack of belief radiating across the cave. Revising the story, she figured she'd save him from having to call her bluff. "I noticed it happened on the days you saw your father, or the days we talked about your past. I could have set a clock by it by the end. And I could only figure... I knew the horrors you'd shared with me. What more was there that you hadn't?" A moment slid by in silence before she continued. "I couldn't let you relive that without comfort. Not when you were facing it to save me."

They lay in silence for a number of minutes, long enough that Emma presumed he'd drifted back to sleep. As her lids began to flutter closed, he spoke into the silence, softly enough that had they not been sharing an echoey alcove she never would have heard him. "Thank you," he said, barely a breath on a whisper. "For understanding."

As she returned to slumber, she wondered when she'd gotten to know him well enough that she was able realize without question that it was the most vulnerability he'd shown in centuries.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thanks first of all to my beta, textbookone, who routinely saves you all from poor grammar, abrupt endings, and contortionism! (She doesn't beta my notes, so if that's not a real word, blame me not her.)

Thanks secondly to the guests (and named reviewers, of course!) who reviewed the last chapter. I have no way to thank you guys individually but I so appreciate your feedback! I'd gotten so little response to the prior couple of chapters that I was beginning to question if it was worth my time to write since no one seemed to be reading so it's great to know people still care. :)

Sorry this one's a bit of a shortie. I've been trying to do shorter &amp; more frequent but you can see how well *that* is working out... :/

Regardless, enjoy!

* * *

As the days wore on, Bae worked to convince Emma that they couldn't just hole up in the cave and starve. The gnawing feeling in her stomach had taken his side in the debate, and together they had overcome her better judgement. Most mornings, as soon as the sun came up Bae would go out in search of food - in hopes that he'd be back before any search parties might be mobilized for the day. On this particular morning, Bae's nightmare had woken them before the sun, and he'd been intent on setting out for a berry bush he'd noticed on the way back from the stream.

"I'm sick of greens and fish," he'd said. "If you come with me, we can leave before sunup and bring back twice as much."

She'd concurred, giving into his argument once he pressed that he'd seen nary a soul since their arrival. The walk to the bush hadn't been far, and the pouches they'd formed with the fronts of their tunics were half full before they'd even glimpsed sunlight. The walk had been filled with idle chatter and talk about their plight - their normal topics of conversation - but as they stood in front of the bushes Bae turned the topic to something a bit more colorful.

"We've been out here a week already," he said, kicking at the bramble as he reached for another handful of berries. "You think they've caught this Cora yet?"

Emma shrugged. "Your guess is good as mine."

"After they do... once it's time to go back..." Bae spoke slowly, pensively, letting out a lingering sigh as he thought aloud. "Perhaps the time may have come to attempt reason with my father. He might be convinced that if time spent living in a cave hasn't drawn us together, nothing ever will."

Emma stopped in her picking, squinting at Bae as she digested this idea. "And what then?"

It was Bae's turn to shrug. "You'll be able to go back to how things were before my father swooped in and disrupted everything. Return to your home, to your parents - to your life. Be free to resume your studies, embark on your travels, to marry a prince of your choosing - or none at all."

Emma found herself taken aback by how her heart fell as she considered the notion of returning to her life 'before.' It seemed so... mundane. Stifling, even, when considered through the lens of the past six weeks. "And what of you?" she asked.

Bae gave another shrug, less enthusiastic this time. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I'll return to my father's, I suppose, having done my duty to my kingdom. I'll have kept our rulers alive, their princess safe, and satisfied my father's wishes in the process. At the end of the day, so long as I'm able to right the wrongs bestowed by my father, it doesn't seem to me that my fate's terribly important."

Emma gaped at him, astonished at his attitude. How did he not care that he'd be returning to a life that made him miserable? How could he feel that her happiness trumped his - as if he wasn't worthy of happiness at all? Hearing him speak that way struck her to the core, leaving her to wonder why it affected her so. She stood rooted to her spot, heart in her throat.

Oblivious to her plight, Bae resumed plucking the berries from the vine and she stood watching him, trying to reason out why her insides felt twisted into knots, why she felt absolutely gutted to know that he felt unworthy of happiness of his own. No question that she felt for him out of basic human decency - she'd been raised to want all of her subjects to be happy and prosperous - but this went deeper than that. No, somehow it felt vitally important to her that Bae realize his own worth... and when did his happiness take on such a paramount importance to her, anyways?

It was there, standing in a thicket of brambleberry bushes, that she realized it: she'd begun falling for her own husband.

The realization caused her to stumble back, leaving her thankful that Bae's back was turned. That darling, charming boy with his too-wise eyes would have known immediately that something was amiss, and she couldn't answer to his questions right now. Not when her head was swimming with so many of her own. When had this happened? How was she to deal with it? Acting on any notion was out of the question, of course. But oh, at the very least she could let him know he was important, that he mattered. She could do at least that much without letting on to her secret.

"It's not true, Bae," she finally choked out. So long had passed since his last comment that he must have forgotten what had been said, and so he glanced over his shoulder, squinting at her in the low morning sunlight.

"What isn't?"

"You - that you're not important. That's not the way this story ends, me back to my palace and you fading into the ether. We both end up okay at the end of it, you hear me?"

He turned to look at her, surprised at her words. Seeing the determination etched upon her face, he merely let out a noncommittal noise and nodded in reply.

"I mean it, Bae. You've made it your mission to take care of me, but I'm changing the rules. From here on out, we take care of each other."

His brow furrowed. "Emma, you don't have to-"

"I do," she said firmly. A beat passed before she continued. "Why don't you see your happiness as important, Bae?"

He shrugged, ducking his head and turning back to his picking. She made no such move, staring at him as she waited for him to open up. He must have felt her eyes boring into him, as finally he mumbled, "Why should I? No one else does. Not my mother, not my father, my stepfather..."

"I do." She hadn't meant to say it - it had just slipped out - but Bae didn't seem to take notice. Nor did he respond, not really anyways, though she noticed some of the slump went out of his shoulders as he resumed his picking in earnest. After a long moment, he turned to her and spoke, gesturing to the berries in his tunic - "I think that's about all I can carry."

She nodded, wordless, taking that as her cue that the conversation was over. As they trudged back to the cave, she realized that though the the conversation had ended, her troubles had really just begun.

* * *

Threats from Cora or no, Snow and Charming were still responsible for conducting their weekly council meeting. And so they sat around the council's large table with a dozen of their most trusted advisors, discussing varying matters of state - the unsolved problem of Cora included.

The meeting was interrupted as a whirl of smoke appeared in the room, dispersing to reveal Rumplestiltskin. "Where are they?" he cried, his tone accusatory, brown eyes wild with alarm.

"Excuse us," Prince Charming addressed the room at large. "Where are _who_?" he continued, turning to face the room's newest occupant.

"Baelfire and your daughter, of course," the imp replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "You must have them tucked away somewhere!"

The prince exchanged a look of concern with his wife. "We haven't seen Emma in a week... Bae even longer. I thought you had this well in hand?!" Glancing at the occupants of the table, he recalled that they had an audience. "Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere? Red," he nodded towards her, "I assume you can conclude without us?"

She confirmed his assumption with a curt nod, and Emma's parents escorted her unlikely father-in-law into the hall. "What is the meaning of this?" Snow exclaimed, pushing open the door to a nearby chamber and ushering the group inside.

"They're missing," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I assumed she'd coerced him to come stay here despite my warnings to the contrary, but if you speak the truth, I don't know where they are."

"You have my word," replied Charming, "and I would hope after all of these years you can trust that our word is good."

"Unfortunately so," he said, narrowing his eyes. "But then where _are they_."

Charming blew out a frustrated breath. "Calm down. Let's back up... I thought you had them under your protection. Why do you believe them to be missing?"

"I hadn't seen them in almost a week, for starters," Rumplestiltskin began.

"This is unusual?"

"Yes, yes. Rarely a day went by that one or the other wasn't up asking for help. 'I tore my shawl' or 'I found this wild turkey in the kitchen but I don't know how to cook it.' When I didn't see them for a few days -"

"Wait, wait," Snow interrupted. "They brought this pettiness to you? What did you do when they approached you with these problems?"

Rumplestiltskin wrinkled his nose, unamused at her inane question. "Fixed it for them, of course."

Snow raised an eyebrow. "You just... magically fixed their issues?"

He shot her a dirty look. "Yes of course! What did you expect I would do?"

The royals exchanged a glance. "Allowed them to figure it out for themselves?"

"They would fail!"

"They would _learn_," Snow admonished him. "Rumplestiltskin, you forced these two children into a marriage. How do expect them to be successful if you do everything for them?"

"Well I suspect they're working it out now, wherever your precious princess has spirited Bae off to..."

"Why is it that they go missing and you assume Emma is at fault?" Charming asked, offended at the assumption.

"Bae is far too prudent to come up with a plan as foolhardy as running off with her."

"And Emma is not?"

"Well, she is rather spirited, dear." Snow interjected, only to be leveled by her husband's gaze. He turned his attention back to the sorcerer in front of them.

"Why would they run? They were protected on your grounds! And even if Emma found running to be the more attractive choice, what makes you think she would go with your son? Last I saw, they were none too fond of each other. Barely tolerated each other, at best."

"Things can change..." Rumplestiltskin replied.

"Had they?" Charming replied, surprise evident in his voice.

"Barely beyond civility, I'm afraid."

"Then I'll ask again. Why do you think they ran away?"

"Three days in a row I've gone to the cottage to check on them, and they are nowhere in sight. I'd assumed they were avoiding me, but the notes I've sent sit undisturbed on the kitchen table. Nothing's been moved or touched between visits. I set a barrier spell to keep them in, so I hadn't worried, but at this point I'm beginning to fear they escaped before it was in place."

"But why together? I still don't understand why Emma would have weighed herself down by taking your son?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Based on the parameters of their reign, they could not have gone separately."

"Parameters?" the prince asked, confusion evident in his voice. "Whatever are you talking about?"

Rumplestiltskin clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Keep up. Under the agreement we forged upon Emma's arrival, Bae cannot leave the grounds without myself or Emma. She had more reign, but still, she must return to her husband by nightfall."

Snow glanced at her own husband, who shook his head. "Emma never mentioned any of this to us," she stated suspiciously.

"And on any of her visits, has she stayed past nightfall?"

Her mother pursed her lips. "No."

"Your daughter is a cunning girl. She understood these parameters and would have easily figured out that they could leave so long as they were together."

"What was the price if they violated these parameters?"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "I hadn't one, but the young ones never asked. Their assumptions worked to my benefit."

Charming sighed, shaking his head as he processed the situation and worry began to creep in. "We'll send out a search party at once," he said, nodding towards Snow. She exited in haste, moving back towards the council chamber. Charming went to follow her but stopped short, turning back to Rumplestiltskin with a quizzitive look on his face. "One last thing. _Why_ did you feel the need to put these parameters in place?"

Rumplestiltskin looked at him, incredulous. "Are you daft? Without them, they would have avoided each other completely. How do you expect the two of them to develop feelings for one another if they aren't forced to spend time together?"

This caused Charming to dissolve into uproarious laughter. "You think my daughter is going to develop feelings for your son? Clearly you don't know Emma well... at all."

* * *

Emma stood at the back of the cave, rinsing the berries they'd picked as Bae pulled together the rest of the ingredients for their meal - some sort of stew by the looks of it. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and tried to will away the flip-flops her heart was doing in her chest. How could she have been so foolish as to allow herself to have feelings for him? Not that she'd given herself permission, of course, but somehow his endearing smile had found its way through a gap in her guard and now here she was. Harboring affections for someone who did not return them was an awful feeling. She could perhaps think of only one thing worse: to be caught in that situation with the person you were married to - married to and stuck in isolation with for weeks on end. Stupid. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Emma_, she chastised herself, silently vowing to keep her newfound feelings hidden. After all, the only thing that had made their early days even remotely tolerable was the knowledge that they were both equally displeased with the situation. Somehow going back on that felt like a betrayal.

She'd already pressed too close to the line as it was. She'd have to be careful - very careful - not to let on that she had any attachment to him. She couldn't quite decide why - whether it was because it would be uncomfortable for them both, or maybe that it was unfair to him to have her acting as a lovesick puppy. Or perhaps because she couldn't bear to see the compassion in his eyes as he rejected her, pitying her as she pined for someone who saw her only as a friend. Nevertheless, the fact remained that she'd have to take every precaution to interact with him as she always had. She could do that, hold up that front, act as if nothing had changed - just until she figured out how to get over this silly romantic notion that had somehow crept into her conscience.

"Em?"

"Hmm?"

"You're awfully quiet over there. Thoughts to share?"

"No," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "Nothing to share." A pause as she took a breath, steadying herself before turning. "How's the stew coming?"

Once they'd finished eating, Emma thanked him for preparing the meal. It was barely edible, of course, leaving a complement as a dead giveaway that something was amiss - but she wasn't about to let his kindness go unnoticed. She couldn't allow herself to be added to the list of people who'd stolen his self-worth. Beyond that discussion she retreated into her thoughts, puzzling over how to work herself back into the tenets of friendship they'd established weeks prior. If Bae noticed that her lack of conversation persisted throughout the afternoon, he didn't mention it. For that, Emma was glad - at least it was one fewer lie she had to tell. She was certainly spinning plenty as she worked to convince herself that time and willpower could banish the affections she'd unwillingly acquired.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N - Sorry all for the long delay in chapters! I decided last-minute to do NaNo, which of course ate the entire month of November (but on the upside, I now have 50k of a plot bunny that had been chasing me for a long time. Considering I normally only manage to write about 6k a month, that is extremely helpful in getting fic written in a timely manner.)

Thank you as always for the reviews, favorites, and follows. And my continuing undying gratitude to my beta, textbookone, who repeatedly takes time out of her busy schedule to make sure that the story actually makes sense before I share it with you all.

I'll be traveling for the holidays, but the next chapter will be ready to go up as soon as I return. :) I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas (or a great holiday, whatever you celebrate!) and I'll see y'all next year! :)

* * *

Bae shivered, tucking the blanket more tightly around him - for all the good it did. He'd been awake for probably an hour, and the logs he'd added to the fire had done little to combat the cold air swirling through the cave. The weather had finally turned - as he'd known it would - and he feared it was the challenge that might push them over the edge.

He let out a heavy sigh as he watched the flames consume the logs. They were going through firewood much more quickly now that they were having to stoke the fire through the night. He'd need to head out and gather more; may as well get on with it while the day was young. Grabbing his boots, he pulled them on, a careful eye kept on Emma to ensure that he didn't wake her. If he did, she'd inevitably tut at him over leaving the cave - but while her worry was kind, the outings were a necessity.

Deciding his bid was successful, he stood and grabbed a branch from where they lay piled against the wall. Holding it to the edge of the fire, he watched the flames lick at it until it caught, then lifted the torch to aid in guiding him outside. Stepping out of the alcove into the body of the cave, he released the breath he'd been holding, thankful that he'd been able to slip out without disturbing the princess.

The moment of gratitude was shattered when a voice sounded from behind him. "I really wish you wouldn't endanger yourself so needlessly."

He steeled himself for a moment before turning back to see Emma, still lying in bed, eyes closed and clutching the blanket as he'd done just minutes prior. "It's not needless. We need more firewood."

"We have a huge stack up against the wall. We'll be fine."

He shook his head. "Two days' worth - at most. And if it rains again - there goes any hope of dry wood. No, I'll head out and collect a few armfuls. It'll be enough to shore us up for a few days. I can check the traps while I'm out, too."

Emma frowned. "That'll take you hours."

"It'll only take hours if our luck has turned, leaving us to feast today. You and I both know that's unlikely." He let out a sigh of resignation. "Come on. I'll bring things to the mouth of the cave, you can carry them back down this way."

"That's stupid, Bae. You shouldn't have to do it all yourself." She sat up, letting out a heavy sigh of her own. "I'll come out and help."

"And spend the whole time jumping at every breaking twig, terrified Cora's come to skin you alive? It'll take twice as long - once to do my work and another to calm you down. No, it's best you stay in here, safe and protected from the bogeyman."

She made a face. "Pfft. He's far less terrifying than Cora, I'll have you know." Scuffing a toe along the cave's floor, she tried to reason with him once more. "It's not fair that you're stuck out in the elements. I really don't mind. You can get the wood and I'll check the traps-"

Bae shook his head. "Truly, no. You should see yourself out there, you're so jumpy it's ridiculous. Besides, if you're right and Cora's hunting for you-"

"If I'm right, you'll get yourself killed."

"I _won't_ get myself killed. That's the whole point. I'm absolutely nobody to Cora, just a peasant, she won't pay me any mind. You, on the other hand - well, it's a lot of effort wasted if she should catch you now."

Emma narrowed her eyes, searching for a rebuttal and coming up empty. Finally she produced a sullen reply. "Fine. But I'll meet you at the edge of the rocks. I can maneuver back and forth through them more easily than you can."

It was true - she'd been slight when they met, but the girl was positively skin and bones now. She could slip through the boulders with little effort, and though Bae wasn't particularly large himself, every bit made a difference. So he nodded, anxious to get the day's chores completed and out of the way. "Fair enough."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Bae had piled the sticks as they'd agreed and moved on to the traps, glancing up just in time to see bits of blonde bobbing up and down through the gaps in the rocks. Sending Emma a wave, he couldn't help but smile; it was good to see her out of the cave. She was beginning to worry him... days upon end without exposure to daylight weren't good for anyone. He'd never be able to forgive himself if the girl he returned to her parents was a patched together version of her former self; pale, malnourished and downtrodden. She deserved far better than that.

He couldn't quite shake the image of her; huddled, shivering, under her blanket as she slept. Going into hiding to save her life was all well and good, but she shouldn't be forced to suffer such conditions. Perhaps there was another way to keep her safe. Of course, selling her on that was another matter entirely; she was quite attached to the safety of the cave. Bae, on the other hand, wasn't quite so sure it was necessary. Cora hadn't been heard of in twenty years before this little escapade - how terrible could she be?

Putting aside his thoughts, he bent to check a trap and found a pheasant, pinned under the rock he'd propped and baited. It was a stroke of good fortune - far more meat than the fish and small rodents he usually managed to catch - and he took solace in the fact that they'd have reasonably full bellies for this day, at least.

By the time he made it back to the cave, Emma had shuttled the firewood inside. He slipped in, the pheasant in one hand and a sack of foliage in the other. He made it to the doorway of the alcove just in time to watch Emma placing the last of the firewood onto the stack. Hearing him, she turned - "Oh good, you're back!"

Endearing as her worry was, he couldn't help but tease her. "You saw me hardly fifteen minutes ago, you goose."

She grinned in response. "Well how'd I know Cora didn't poof in just as soon as I came back to the cave? I'm just glad to see you in one piece is all." Her eyes flitted to the bird in his hand and grew wide. "What'd you catch?"

Matching her grin, he held it up. "Pheasant."

"Goodness, Bae!"

He shrugged. "Not as if I did anything different than normal. Just had something a little larger wander in, that's all."

She scowled at him. "You still caught it, silly. Give it here, I'll get it cleaned up."

"You don't need to do that," he said, shaking his head. "I've got it."

"You brought us food, the least I can do is help prepare it while you set up the spit and stoke the fire."

"It'll need plucking..." he said, eyeing her as he tried to decide if the trade off was fair.

"That's okay, I can do it." She paused, making a face. "Um, if you tell me how."

"Of course," he said, biting back the urge to throw another tease her way. "It's not hard, just tedious. You just hold the skin taut like this-" he said, illustrating as he explained, "-and tug it out like so. Be careful to pull in the same direction it grows."

"Feathers down the waterfall?"

He shrugged. "You can, but might be nice to add them to your bed."

"Yes, because a handful of feathers will do so much for that pallet I sleep on."

"Hey," he said, stepping over to look for suitable logs in the now-larger pile of firewood, "Over time it could add up. A few pheasants make a fine pillow!"

"Fine... flat... same thing," she said, grumbling. "So do rolled-up tunics."

"Only if they're not sopping wet from washing, dear princess."

She scoffed. "Bae, my clothes were disgusting. They needed cleaned. How was I to know they'd take three days to dry?"

He laughed. "So save your feathers and there'll be no issue when your clothing is soiled, my dear. Here," he said, digging in his stash, "you can put them on this tunic as you pluck them. I'll ready the spit."

Emma accepted the tunic with a nod and he watched after her as she marched back towards the waterfall. Seems her spunk wasn't so much gone as tucked out of sight, he thought… maybe he worried too much after all.

* * *

"And Red's seen no sign of them?"

Snow shook her head as she pulled the horse to a stop in front of the small cottage where Rumplestiltskin had agreed to meet them. "Nothing. She was able to trace the trail to a stream a couple of hours' hike from here but from there... I guess the recent rains have washed away any trace."

Charming grimaced. "That boy… When I figure out where he's spirited my daughter off to..."

"Charming, we still have no proof that Bae's the one behind this disappearance."

"Indeed," Rumplestiltskin agreed, appearing to the right of the royal duo. "My son isn't the one with a threat on his head."

Charming opened his mouth to deliver an undoubtedly biting retort, but Snow jumped in before he had the chance. "Well, wherever they are, let's hope we'll find some clues in the cottage."

She dismounted the horse with ease, years of pampered living not having dimmed her ability to ride. Rumplestiltskin walked her to the door of the cottage before gesturing towards the entrance and rolling into an exaggerated bow. "Your highness."

Charming, two steps behind her, rolled his eyes at the theatrical display. He stepped past the sorcerer, entering on his wife's heels, and together they glanced around the cottage where their daughter had lived.

"It's... quaint," Snow said, addressing Rumplestiltskin.

"They were supplied with everything they needed," he replied. "You'll find the kitchen fully stocked, still. Bedroom is back and to the right."

Snow wandered forward, taking in Emma's favorite chair, smiling as she noticed the lumps that had developed from her habit of flopping down on it. She continued looking around at the settee and the kitchen beyond, while Charming made a beeline for the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway, squinted, and looked back at Rumplestiltskin.

"There's only one bed."

Rumple, a hint of amusement on his face, looked over at Snow. "Is the concept of _marriage_ lost on your husband? My, my, after all of these years you'd think he'd have it down. I'm a bit worried for the two of you!"

Charming's eyes widened and he moved as if he was going to lunge at the elder man. Snow put a hand up, signaling at him to stop. "Charming, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. The poor boy spent his nights on the settee here - Emma was quite clear about that."

"If I find out that boy's laid a hand on her..."

Rumple sneered at him. "Bae was raised to respect others - which is more than I can say for your daughter. Spoiled, that one!" He shook his head in disgust. "But nevermind that. At the moment, the operative question is where would she have gone to hide from Cora - leaving from here, traveling on foot?"

"Wherever your son dragged her, I'd imagine!"

"Enough!" Snow's shout caused both men to turn and look at her, shellshocked. "Our children are missing. How about if we stop fighting about whose fault it is and start figuring out where they've gone instead?"

Charming stared at her for a moment, then gave a quick nod before turning his gaze back to Rumplestiltskin. "You can't... magically track them somehow?"

"Tried. Three times. First time the shawl flew off too quickly for me to keep up. Second, the scarf made it as far as the stream down the way, then became too waterlogged to continue. Third only made it as far as the ivy on the wall before getting hopelessly entangled.

"You could try again," Snow said, reasoning with the sorcerer as Charming paced about the cottage. "Go on horseback, giving the advantage of speed, take something to the stream and set out from there-"

"Snow."

"Yeah?"

"Look." Charming lifted Emma's blanket from where it had been tossed over the side of the settee. "I was right - that boy has spirited her away somewhere. Emma would never willingly leave her blanket behind."

"No," Snow said, speaking slowly, "No she wouldn't." Looking at Rumplestiltskin, she continued. "Your move."

* * *

Hours later the pheasant had been devoured, a few bits even left sitting in the drippings to add to the following day's stew. Their bellies were fuller than they had been in days, and Emma stretched lazily out across her pallet as Bae headed to the back of the cave to wash up.

She found herself opting for silence more and more frequently. It was sometimes the only response she could muster in lieu of snapping at Bae. It wasn't that she was angry with him - she wasn't even sure that she _could_ be - but rather that she was so frustrated with herself that it wanted to bubble over everywhere. The prior days had been... trying, at best. She'd thought she'd done okay one day, made some progress, gotten over herself - it had been Wednesday, perhaps, if she'd counted Bae's hash marks correctly. But then Bae'd awoken screaming, and she'd realized she'd do just about anything - _anything_ \- if it meant she could rescue him from that. That was the same night she learned that while kicking the wall next to her bed may have allowed her a silent vent from the frustration, it also gave her a sore toe - which proved even harder to hide than her feelings.

The soreness disappeared more quickly, too.

She sat up and shook out her blanket, sending bits of bark flying, remnants of having been used as a makeshift lumber sled earlier in the day. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. It made her feel a few degrees warmer, at least. Upon getting the corners tucked in securely, she worked to still her shivering before glancing up to find Bae standing there. He'd returned from the waterfall and now stood feet away from her, scowling.

"What?" she asked.

"You're freezing."

"Not anymore!"

He let loose with a heavy sigh. "Emma, it's the dead of winter, we are sleeping with a lit fire and you are still shivering through the night under that thin blanket. I - I'm not sure it's safe for us to be out here any longer." He cringed, leaving her to wonder what was coming next. "Perhaps we should return."

She hadn't expected that. Was he crazy? "You know that's not an option, Bae! Cora is still a threat."

Sighing again, he rubbed his forehead, frustrated. "Surely there must be a way to protect you from her."

She snorted. "Hardly. Cora has magic."

"So does my father."

Emma rolled her eyes. "We've been through this before - I'm not asking that man for help! He has no use for me, no incentive to assist me, he'd want to make a deal... likely ask for my firstborn or something."

He quirked an eyebrow as he replied. "That should be no issue, you've informed me you won't be _having_ a firstborn."

"Well... it would be just my luck to bank on that and make such a deal, then have my circumstances change. Become a widow and remarry, perhaps."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm thrilled that you find me so disposable."

"Fair enough," she said, rolling her eyes, "I could become an adulteress, then. Would that be preferable?"

"By far."

"In any event, I would prefer not to have to surrender my unlikely heir to the great Rumplestiltskin."

"It's true, he does have a way of bartering for firstborns. Though he threatens far more frequently than he actually follows through." Seeing Emma's raised eyebrow, he amended his statement. "Not that the following through is excusable, of course... particularly in the case of princesses coming of age..."

"And even if this arrangement is preferable to him stealing away an infant, would you want to raise your child knowing he or she was subject to the fate of a loveless marriage?" He grimaced in reply, which she took as confirmation of her point. "No? I didn't think so. Nor would I, ergo, there will be no deal with your father. We stay in the cave," she finished firmly.

He sighed. "Fine. But if you insist on remaining out here, we'll need a solution for these frigid nights."

"What, pray tell, do you suggest."

He made a face - a face that she'd come to recognize as one that predicated a statement she'd disapprove of. "Bae," she began, a warning tone coloring her voice.

Another sigh. "I think we need to share a bed."

She gasped in horror and leapt to her feet, instinctively reaching for the branch she'd designated for use as a sword. "Ha! You think I'd be so gullible as to-"

"_Not_ like that," he said, his tone pleading. "We need all of the warmth that we can get. Sharing body heat, the ability to share both blankets - this winter will get colder yet and it may be the only way to survive the nights." She dropped her spear slightly and he continued. "Fully clothed - we'll need the layers - and we can sleep back to back if you prefer. I'll sleep facing the wall and you can face the fire."

"I appreciate the offer, but it seems a convenient plan to end up in a compromising position."

"Emma. You know by now that's not what I'm after."

She deflated a bit at that - and she could tell from his expression that he took it as his argument gaining ground. She allowed herself to pretend it was due to acceptance of his point and not a tiny pin prick to her burgeoning feelings. _Of course he only meant it for survival, Emma... to mean it for more would indicate he'd feelings for you beyond friendship and camaraderie._

"I'll be all right over here," she replied finally, as she pretended not to notice the hurt in his eyes at her rejection.

"I thought you'd come to trust me," he said softly, and the hurt in his voice nearly made her burst forth with the terrible truth right then and there.

"I do, it's just that..." _I can't afford to put myself in that situation,_ her subconscious supplied, before her brain silenced it and finished the sentence. "It's just not proper."

"Emma. Sharing a sleeping space with your husband is far from improper," he said, his desperation making the statement sound far more stern than he'd likely meant it to.

"Yet you're _not really my husband_," she replied tersely, stressing each word as she choked them out. "Or have the details of our arrangement escaped you?"

"Not for a moment," he replied.

She tugged the tattered blanket back around her shoulders and laid down. "We'll be all right, Bae. The cave is shelter from the worst of the winds and the fire keeps it from being entirely frigid."

"Emma," he began, pleading again. "Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry."

"I'm trying to be practical, to keep us safe. Your parents - I made them a promise. If anything should happen to you -"

"Nothing will happen to me. It will all be fine."

"I just... I need to keep you safe. This arrangement - we're here because of my father. I can't let harm come to you because you were pulled from the safety of your home due to my father's manipulations on my behalf, and then I wasn't able to keep you safe. I've little to offer you... please know that I'm doing my best."

Her heart broke a little at his plea; given the circumstances, he'd gone far beyond his duties in protecting her. But she bit back the honest, earnest response that wanted to leap from her tongue in favor of a simpler one: "I know." With her statement, the cave descended into silence, and at some point they both drifted into an uncomfortable slumber.

* * *

It was shortly before dawn when he felt her crawl in next to him, tugging her threadbare cloth around them both. Her skin was cool to the touch - though he knew his was no better - and the contact made him shiver.

"You said you'd face the wall," she offered, an accusatory whisper, and obediently he rolled in his spot.

"Indeed I did," came his even-toned reply as he adjusted the blankets to account for his movement.

Drifting off to sleep, he figured the cold had outlasted Emma's pride. It would be years before he knew she'd crawled in to soothe the whimpering that she knew accompanied his nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N - Thanks as always for the reviews! I am desperately (like, months) behind in sending out thank your, but please know how much I appreciate them! And as always, thanks so much to my beta, textbookone! She is awesome :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

Emma had been different since they'd moved to the cave, Bae had noticed - quieter, almost withdrawn. Gone were her sharp retorts and biting statements, replaced by words of affirmation - or no words at all. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it; it hadn't quite crossed into the realm of worrisome, but it certainly was peculiar. He couldn't quite wrap his brain around where her head was, what she was thinking - what had caused her to close off instead of firing every discomfort his way.

Of course, that wasn't the only change he'd noticed. During their time in the cottage, he'd assumed her adverse to hard work - breeding of a princess and all. Sure, she'd done the dishes when her turn came up (and she couldn't find a way to pawn it off on him,) but she'd spent so much time flitting off to visit this royal or that noble that the rest of the housework had fallen on him. But as those first days in the cave turned into weeks, she'd encouraged him to teach her more - how to build a fire, spear a fish, set a trap. They'd run to keep her safe, she'd said, she needed to do her part to keep them alive.

Which was how they'd ended up here. Without utensils, sharpened sticks had become their mainstay - for fishing, cooking, eating - and Emma had declared that after all of the twigs she'd snapped, the least she could do was learn to sharpen the new ones. With great reluctance, Bae had agreed to hand over the knife. At present, Emma sat on a stump they'd maneuvered into the cave - that had been its own miraculous feat - with a thin branch braced across her lap. She held the knife in her right hand and looked up at Bae expectantly, awaiting his instruction.

"All right, try this. Plant your feet on the floor, about yea far apart," Bae said, his arm gestures amplified as the fire projected them onto the cave's walls. Emma did as he said, earning a nod of approval. "Now place the branch crosswise on your knee - no, not straight across, you don't want it to touch the other one. Kind of angle it out in front of you." He sighed, watching her swing the branch about. "Truly, Emma, did you even watch when I did that before?"

She bit her lip. "I suppose not."

"All right, then. The idea is that should you slip off the end, or lose your grip on the knife, you won't stab yourself. So aim away from your body, but at a natural angle." She complied, finally, and he moved onto the next instruction. "Okay, now hold the knife level - you want to scrape bits of the wood away, just enough to bring it to a sharp point. Don't put too much pressure or you'll -" he jumped out of the way as the knife went flying "- lose your grip on the knife when you hit the end." Bae employed a heavy sigh as he retrieved it. "Come on, I need some skewers to cook dinner. How about you let me whittle down a couple, and then you can go back to trying to impale yourself."

"Very funny," she said, rolling her eyes. But she stood as requested, handing over the knife and moving away from the stump. She grabbed a couple of prime branches as he sat, ready to hand them over once he got settled.

"Another Neverland skill?" she asked, watching him cautiously as she spoke. He'd stopped flinching when she mentioned his time on the island - truth be told, he'd come to appreciate being able to talk about it with someone. But sometimes she went too far - edged too close to some invisible wound - and he was surprised to find that she'd learned to tread carefully.

"Everything that's keeping us alive is a Neverland skill," he said, a sarcastic smile creeping onto his face. "Not much to do when you're living alone - learning skills keeps your mind off of the loneliness, at least."

"Boy, do I understand that," she replied.

He shot her a cross look. "And what do you know of loneliness, growing up in a castle with a million people all around?"

She sighed. "Being surrounded by people doesn't preclude one from being lonesome."

"No?"

She shook her head. "There were always people around, sure - nursemaids, castle staff, various folks who had business with my parents. I was never alone. But lonely? It's hard to form a connection with anyone when no one is in a position to understand you. It's not like I had a right to fuss at the castle staff, there solely to ensure I wanted for nothing. Even the various nobles would come stay for several days - but then disappear for years. There were my parents, of course, but as much as they adore me, they were also raising me.

"It was always the same refrain - 'Eat your vegetables, Emma dear, the kingdom's relying on you to grow up strong.' 'Chew with your mouth closed, Emma dear, you'll be queen some day.' As close as we were, there was hardly a moment to connect on a true personal level without the shadow of responsibility eclipsing it all. Now, there was Alex - she was in a position to understand - but she reveled in the idea of being a princess. Be waited on hand and foot, marry a prince, eventually boss around the whole kingdom. I adore her, but she never seemed to grasp the enormous responsibility placed on our shoulders. At least she had a sister to share it with - maybe that's why. For my kingdom, it was only ever me."

Bae paused in his whittling, squinting at Emma as he saw this other side of her. Never before had she expressed hesitation at her path in life - not openly, anyways. There had been hints, now that he thought about it, but never so honest as this. "You don't want the responsibility?"

She shrugged. "It's not that I mind; I've been groomed for the task and who else could do it, anyways? It's more that my parents never did ask how I felt about it - nor was I given a say in the matter." She sighed. "I'd like to have had the opportunity to explore some other avenues, have a few adventures - especially now, when my parents have the kingdom well in hand and my lessons are finished, leaving my presence as unnecessary."

Bae shot her a crooked smile, gesturing to the cave around them. "Seems to me you're getting an adventure now, huh?"

"I suppose," she said with a laugh. "I'm not sure this is quite what I had in mind."

"No, I would guess not."

"I mean in some ways it makes me appreciate what I have. Getting back to somewhere with a bed and food I don't have to catch myself sounds _wonderful_. But giving up the freedom, the ability to make mistakes without someone mindful of my every move - it'll be a challenge."

"Your parents won't give you the freedom to make your own choices?"

"I don't - I don't know anymore. I'd thought we were close - closer and more open than I could be with anyone else - but then it turns out there was this enormous secret they'd been hiding from me. 'We hope you'll find someone who loves you for who you are, just as we found in each other,' they used to tell me. The fact that they never ever let on that it might be an impossibility... that's a deep wound, one that will take much time to heal."

"It hasn't yet, I take it."

She shrugged. "I haven't had the opportunity to speak with them about it, really. Though I doubt they'll change their tune - their explanation is that they thought your father would renege. Like that's supposed to excuse it all away."

"Of course it doesn't. One would think they'd tell you…"

"Precisely. It's a responsibility of kingdom, not unlike negotiating treaties or issuing proclamations."

He paused to squint at her again. "Seems a marriage is a bit more significant than a treaty negotiation, no?"

"You'd be surprised what you can adjust to if you're allowed to come to terms with the idea. Daddy and I visited kingdoms whose rulers led nearly separate lives, linked together only by their required heir. But the unions were favorable for both kingdoms, so…"

"That's awful," Bae replied, shaking his head. "I can't imagine living that way."

Emma chuckled. "Is imagining that scenario necessary, Prince Baelfire?"

He propped his stick against the wall, reaching back as Emma passed him another branch. "This feels different somehow."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, my goal is and always has been to reunite you with your parents - you know that. But were we to be perpetually stuck in this marriage, well -" He paused, considering the words to explain his feelings on the subject. "You understand me, Emma. And I value your friendship more that you'll ever know."

A peculiar look crossed her face, one that he couldn't quite read, before her eyes darted to the floor. And maybe it was just the glow of the fire playing tricks on him, but he almost would've sworn a slight blush rose to her cheeks. Had the princess really been paid so few compliments in her life?

"Thanks," she finally mumbled, eyes still fixed to the ground. "Same."

She made her excuses moments later, scooting over to the fire where she poked at some branches that didn't really need to be moved. Bae looked after her, puzzled. Whatever had come over the princess?

* * *

"Cora, it's been weeks. What could you possibly be doing in these stacks and stacks of books."

The pirate leaned against the doorjamb of Cora's room, having been barred entrance days earlier. But she was his only companion - and he was sick of being consumed by boredom - so he languished there, in search of attention.

Cora spoke, eyes never leaving the volumes she was scanning. "The realms... the Dark One says there are twenty seven of them. The first dozen were easy. I've found nine more, but the last few elude me."

Hook sauntered into the room, stopping at the edge of her desk and peering at the list she'd written. He placed his hook on the corner of the paper, dragging it across the table towards himself. "Enchanted Forest... Wonderland, Agrabah, Atlantis..." He skimmed down the list. "You've missed Neverland, love."

Cora snapped her fingers. "Neverland! I knew there was one staring me in the face. Though certainly my Regina's not there..."

"No, I can't imagine she'd be categorized as either a Lost Boy or the mother they've spent centuries longing for."

"Certainly not," Cora replied. "But there are still more, another five that I'm missing. I need to make sure I've found them all, every last one of them, before I set out to find her… can't afford delays in the process once I've begun."

Hook spun the paper back at her. "You'll finish the princess off yourself, then, before you go?"

"Of course not," Cora replied. "What good would that do me? She's untouchable by me right now - under the protection of the Dark One and all. Regina and I together can defeat him - I have no doubt - but things will be ever so much more efficient if I find her first. Then we can both be happy, my dear pirate, me with my princess and you with your croc." She paused, eyes drifting back to the book laid open in front of her.

"You'll be jumping realms in search of Regina? How do you plan to accomplish that?"

"I have a little friend who owes me a favor," she said, "Leftover from my Wonderland days."

"And how long will that take?" Hook asked. "My patience is growing thin!"

"It will take however long it takes!" she snapped, scowling at him. "Now please - leave me to my study! Time is of the essence!"

Hook headed to the door, frustrated as he considered Cora's words. Running the conversation back over in his mind, he stopped and turned back to face her. "The princess is under the crocodile's protection? Whyever would he agree to that?"

Cora chuckled. "Since she's gone and married his son. Dear Snow insists they fell in love, but I know a political move when I see one."

Hook's eyes grew wide, unnoticed by Cora. "His - he has a son?"

"Seems so," she replied, turning another page in the book. "Just when you think you know a man..."

Hook swallowed, anticipation building in his mind. He was careful to keep his tone even, curious, not to tip his hand to Cora as he issued a final question. "The boy... does he have a name?"

"Ball - Bale - Bar - oh, something like that. Why should I care?"

"Baelfire," Hook said, breath stolen away by the luck of it all.

"Yes, that's it," Cora replied dismissively, waving Hook out the door as she did so. "Can't imagine why it matters. Begone with you now."

"Indeed I think I shall, Cora. As you're not living up to your end of the bargain, I think I shall set off on my own now. Thanks for - well, nothing really."

As he disappeared, Cora squinted after him, puzzling for a moment where he'd acquired his sudden change of heart. Then she shrugged; he'd been no help for a while and his manipulations were none of her concern. Instead she turned her sights back to her ultimate goal: Regina.

* * *

Emma and Bae finished the sustenance they had labeled dinner and cleaned up before crawling into the pallet that functioned as a bed. Bae had dried some more leaves, adding bulk to the pile, and it was almost enough to keep them from making contact with the stone of the cave floor. He tossed the blanket over the two of them, pulling it tight around his shoulders and bidding Emma goodnight. She listened as his breathing grew deep and regular.

As for herself, despite the fatigue that had become a constant companion, sleep did not come so easily. Instead Emma considered their earlier conversation and allowed herself to wonder - just for a fleeting, fledgling moment - what if he should ever reciprocate her feelings. A warm arm slung around her waist, holding her tightly - instead of the impersonal practicality of his back against hers. Warm breath on her neck and a soft voice in her ear; space shared out of want instead of necessity.

But no - wandering down that path could lead to nothing but heartache. She shook herself off, scooting incrementally closer to the fire, telling herself it was to absorb its warmth... not out of a need to put some distance between herself &amp; the husband she wasn't supposed to love.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N - Things are about to get hairy for our characters, so some trigger warnings the cover the next 4-5 chapters: there will be peril and there may be character injury, death, or both. Nothing too terribly graphic (this isn't _Game of Thrones,_) but I am a better safe than sorry kind of person. If you are particularly sensitive to these things, I am happy to spoil via PM._

_There's a tiny homage in here to a song that's served as inspiration for this story. Bonus points to anyone who catches it._

_As always, thanks to everyone who reads, favs and follows, and especially to those of you who review... it means the world. And a double-thanks to textbookone for continuing to take time out of her crazy schedule to keep my spelling accurate, grammar solid, and serve as a sounding board as I plow forward through this crazy tale._

_-DSB_

* * *

Bae blinked a few times, squinting against the low glow of the fire. He shifted himself - carefully - so as not to touch Emma. It seemed that every time he shifted positions in the night, he managed to brush against her, causing her to jump out of her skin. He knew that sleeping side-by-side wasn't ideal; she didn't love it and he didn't blame her. But she no longer woke shivering in the morning, so as far as he was concerned, the effort was well worth it.

Gingerly he leaned back, looking towards Emma in order to judge how much space he had to roll. To his surprise, he found himself with as much space as he wanted - he was alone on the pallet. He looked to the fire, expecting to find her huddled near it - but the only thing he found accompanying him in the alcove were shadows. "Emma?" He said, sitting up and glancing around, expecting that perhaps he'd somehow missed her. But she neither answered nor appeared, and his worry rose. "Emma?" Still nothing, just the low crackle of the burning logs to fill the cave's silence.

By this time he was on his feet, heart racing as he descended into panic. "EMMA!" He went to dart out of the alcove when she appeared around the corner - and out of sheer relief, he pulled her into an embrace. Immediately, he felt her tense - and as quickly as he registered his own actions, he released her.

"Goodness, Bae, what happened?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I... you were gone." The peculiar look upon her face made him feel downright foolish - Emma wide-eyed, her expression a mixture of shock and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He stepped back, ducking his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact."

"I was just rinsing out some clothes," she said, gesturing idly in the direction of the waterfall. "I'm sorry to have scared you!"

"You needn't apologize, Princess. I'm the one who should be sorry. There was no need for me to react like that."

And there wasn't, truly. What had come over him? He hasn't felt panic like that, since... well, his nightmares, he supposed. His father loosening his grip, the neverending tumble into a world of loneliness. Or since the Darlings, when the Shadow had come to tear their family apart. Perhaps that's all that it was, panic that he'd lost Emma - that he'd failed in his promise to return her to her parents unscathed.

Certainly it couldn't be for his own selfish reasons - he couldn't need her in that way. His role was to keep her safe, and to get her home. He couldn't come to rely on her to heal that centuries-old wound - not when she'd go back to her life at the end of this, leaving that wound gaping once more. He couldn't.

He simply wouldn't allow it.

He shook himself off, inhaling sharply. Glancing about, he considered their surroundings - drab. Mundane. Stifling. Suffocating. Emma was acting strangely and it seemed that he, too, was beginning to go crazy. He needed to get them out of the confined space. Though he knew there was no way Emma would agree to move, perhaps he could talk her into an excursion - he suspected it was just what they needed.

* * *

Days had passed since the encounter in the cottage, Rumplestiltskin having promised to put forth his best effort towards a solution for locating the young newlyweds. And in true fashion, he'd simply appeared in the castle, commanding the attention of the Prince and offering his best effort at a solution: a locator spell.

"So it works like when you enchanted Snow's ring for me."

"Not exactly," Rumple replied. "That requires an item of great significance. This one is a bit less fussy. We simply pour a few drops onto an article owned by one of the children and it will lead us to them."

"But?"

"As I told you, I've run into some difficulties keeping pace with the items on foot. Snow suggested following on horseback, which seems as good a plan as any."

"All right," Charming said. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "There's no telling how long we'll be out there. You might want to pack a bag."

The prince's brow furrowed. "The way I see it, you owe me right now. You delivered my daughter into your son's clutches and now he's dragged her off to who knows where. So no - I don't want to pack a bag. I expect you'll see to my needs as they arise."

"So confident," Rumplestiltskin replied, unable to hide the a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's been awhile since we've spent time together, your highness, so I might remind you that unlike the rest of your subjects, I don't bend to your whims. Despite your insistence to the contrary, my son is missing every bit as much as your daughter. As a gesture of goodwill, I am allowing you to accompany me. Though you're certainly welcome to go back to having your little wolf sniff around if you so prefer..."

Charming stared him down for a moment. "We leave in twenty minutes," he said. Then he stomped off, presumably to pack the bag he insisted he didn't need.

* * *

Emma padded back from the waterfall, the last of the persimmons they'd picked before the frost in her hand. Bae had asked her to rinse them off while he finished preparing the morning's catch. She rounded the corner, expecting to see him plating the squirrel he'd roasted. Instead, she found him gingerly loading it into his satchel.

"Whatever are you doing?" she asked.

"Come," he said, extending a hand to drag her along to the entrance of the cave. He'd slung the satchel over his shoulder and grabbed his blanket as well, mystifying her completely as she clung to the fruit in her hand. "We've been in this cave nearly a month," he continued, "and it's a mild day outside. We're going to have a picnic."

"But-" she began, only to be shushed by his finger over her lips.

"No buts. We're seen nary a trace of anyone seeking to harm us, and you are in desperate need of sunlight. You've been skulking around here these last weeks - I think the dank cave is addling your spirit."

"That's unkind, Bae!" she replied, affronted.

"It's the truth, dear Emma," he rebutted, tugging her out between the rocks and leading her into a grassy glade a short distance away. "So we'll be taking advantage of this bit of Indian Summer."

After he spread the blanket out, he dropped the satchel and gestured for her to sit. She complied, settling onto a corner of the blanket. Once he had done the same, she tossed him one of the pieces of fruit she'd been carrying.

"Thanks," he said, pulling the satchel over and lifting out the flattened rocks they'd grown accustomed to using as plates.

He passed her a portion of the meat and they ate quietly, laughing about the madness of the early winter weather... Frigid to springlike and then back again. The next freeze would be the one to stick, Bae insisted, and Emma deferred to his knowledge of the subject.

Once they'd finished eating, Emma lay back on the threadbare blanket, blades of grass poking through to tickle her skin and pepper her hair. She crossed her arms under her head and gazed skyward, watching the clouds for a minute before untangling an arm and pointing up. "There," she said. "It looks like a pony."

Bae looked across at her and furrowed his brow. "What?" he asked, looking around, concerned. "Where's a pony?"

"In the clouds, silly," she replied. Seeing his blank look in response, she asked him, "Have you never played this game? Finding shapes in the clouds?"

He shook his head, no, and she sighed. "My mother and I used to play it all the time after lazy afternoon picnics - Daddy, too, when we could persuade him. Look, it's easy. Lay back like this," she said, gesturing to her current position, "and just use your imagination a bit."

"_You_ have imagination?" he needled, smiling. "My, princess Emma, aren't you ever full of surprises. Here I thought you were all snark and seriousness."

"Oh, shush," she replied, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, just try it."

Shooting her a skeptical glance, he lay back, mimicking her posture. He looked skyward, and after a moment, she pointed up again. "See? A turtle!"

"Okay, I can see that," he conceded, laughing a bit. He watched the clouds roll by, before raising his own arm to point. "Look, a dragon!"

"Fire-breathing and all," she giggled. "What else do you see?"

"Ooh, that one looks like a pheasant liver!"

She wrinkled her nose even as she laughed. "Bae! That's disgusting!"

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. "Guess I've got supper on the brain."

She watched, still giggling, as he tilted his face back skyward, closing his eyes to the winter sun as he let the rays warm his face. She reached down to brush a bit of grass off of her arm, finding herself absentmindedly counting the blades that were poking through the blanket. She traced a trail along them with her eyes, making it five past a hundred before she found the row interrupted, Bae's arm in the way.

Her eyes widened a bit as they darted up to his face - finding him thankfully oblivious of her - and she began to blush, realizing she'd been measuring the distance between them. _Pathetic, Emma,_ she told herself, _this has officially moved into pathetic territory._

Continuing on in this manner just wasn't feasible... the pining, the ducking out of conversations when they pressed too close to her true feelings. _Pining_ was simply not her style - it needed to stop. She'd tried ignoring her feelings, hoping they'd go away - no success. Completely the opposite, if she were being frank, having moved from the butterflies of a school girl's crush to the humbling realization that she'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant she could save this boy pain and heartache. He'd endured far too much already.

The only thing she could fathom to do was to figure out how to simply accept her feelings as fact without acting on them. She'd fallen for him, it was true, but on his end she merely found the same protective spirit that he'd exuded from the day they'd married. Except - _he was awfully panicked this morning,_ a tiny voice whispered, _perhaps he's grown more attached than he lets on?_

Perhaps offering him a word of encouragement, giving him an inkling that she was open to legitimacy in their marriage, she thought, glancing his direction. She considered it momentarily, then gathered her wits about her - no. They had an agreement: comrades, consoled by their joint misery. To upset that balance could be disastrous - these 'what if' flights of fancy would have to cease.

If only she could figure out how.

Bae's voice pulled her from her reverie. "Beetle." She furrowed her brow as she looked at him, attempting to clear her mind. "You know, a bug, little hunchbacked thing with half a dozen legs," he said, continuing on as she tried to make sense of his words.

"Ah, of course," she replied, voice soft as her gaze shifted back to the sky above them. "I see it now," she lied, and it was his turn to furrow his brow as he noted the sudden shift in her mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and she plastered on her best fake smile as she turned back to look at him.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He frowned, and she knew he saw through her lie - as he always did - but thankfully he chose not to push the subject. They half-heartedly exchanged a few more whimsical cloud shapes before dark clouds appeared out towards the horizon.

"Looks like there's a storm brewing," she told him, her vantage point allowing her a better view westward.

He rolled over, landing immediately next to her, and she willed herself to ignore the proximity. Propping his chin on his hands, he followed where her gaze was fixed. "Indeed," he replied. "It's probably best to pack the picnic and head under cover."

She nodded, sitting up and gathering the things from her side of the blanket in silence. Once their items had been properly stowed in the satchel, they returned to the cave.

"That was nice... We should do it again sometime," Bae offered.

"It was foolhardy and dangerous," she replied, response barely audible as she muttered under her breath. Of course the danger he heard her talking about wasn't the danger she meant - that was the emotional turmoil that she sat precariously at the edge of. Emma tried to reconcile the fact that she'd broken her own promise to herself, the one where she was supposed to lock up anything extending beyond friendly fondness under lock and key. The one where she swore she wouldn't continue to allow feelings to develop that weren't reciprocated, the one where she vowed to stomp her affections down and never let them show.

But as she wrestled with her emotions, it was in fact the other kind of danger that sprung to mind. She heard a noise down towards the mouth of the cave, a solid forty feet away but sounding imperceptibly closer in the cave's echoey silence. Looking over at Bae, she found him entrenched in unpacking the remnants of their picnic, organizing the items into tidy piles as he always did. "Did you hear that?" she hissed softly, and he looked up at her, puzzled.

"Hear what?" he replied, paying no mind to his volume. Emma shot a cross look his direction before once again replying in a whisper.

"That noise... it sounded like footsteps."

Bae opened his mouth - undoubtedly to tell her not to be foolish; they were both standing in the alcove and who else would cause footsteps to echo through the cave? But a third voice rang out before he could speak, causing the duo to freeze in their spots. The only thing that escaped the instant paralyzation were their eyes, which flew in tandem to the spot in the archway where their visitor stood.

"Aye, it did sound like footsteps, didn't it?"

The pirate chuckled, apparently amused by the twin expressions of wide-eyed surprise that served as a response to his appearance. But while Emma's remained frozen in shock, Bae's only hung there for an imperceivable moment before a glare overtook his face - one that Emma had only ever seen aimed in the direction of his father.

"Well, hello, lad," the pirate said, responding to the glare, "Been a while, hasn't it?"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Sorry this one's a bit short, guys. Make it up to you next time? Thanks as always to Text for her beta and to everyone who reads!

Trigger warnings outlined last chapter remain in effect through approximately chapter twenty...

* * *

"Hook," Bae replied flatly, forcing himself to quell the panic that was quickly rising in his throat. He'd been so convinced that Emma was just being overly dramatic, that no one was looking for them, that no one would harm them, but then - here had come someone to do just that. He could only imagine that Cora had enticed this pirate into doing her bidding. She couldn't have settled just any henchman, found a run of the mill ne'er do well - no, it had to be a villain that had plagued his family for literally centuries. And of course he'd align himself with someone who was out to destroy the girl that Bae had been coerced to marry. _Of course._

"I was surprised to hear you'd made it back to our realm. I see your father finally found you! Didn't even require the rumored curse... I'm most impressed," he continued. "So he's achieved his goal, I see. Unfortunately that's only one of us - mine is still outstanding. You'll be helping me finish it."

"I'll help you do nothing," Bae said with a snarl, his temper rising in contrast to the pirate's icy calm. He chanced a glance at Emma - she'd steeled herself to appear unfazed. But he was surprised to find that somewhere along the way he'd learned her well enough to see the fear seeping through at the cracks. Confident that she was holding her own, he returned to meet the gaze of the man he'd once considered calling a father.

"I don't think you have much of a choice in the matter, lad," he replied, and though his demeanor was calm, there was the air of a threat brewing in the statement. The pirate raised his sword, stepping towards the duo in the alcove. "You'll come along with me, show me where your father's hidden that dagger. That way I can end this feud for once and for all."

When Bae made no move to comply, the pirate lunged at him, grappling for the boy's arm. But Baelfire - a few years older and wiser than the last time they'd squared off - anticipated the move, tumbling under his reach and out of his way, knocking the sword away from the pirate in the process. He stumbled into the body of the cave, turning back to find that Emma hadn't been so lucky. Hook stood behind her, his good hand clamped around her upper arm. He slid his left arm around her neck, hook menacingly poised at her shoulder, then bent to scoop up the sword with his free hand.

"Well look, I found a consolation prize," he said, taunting the cave at large as he drug Emma towards her husband. "This must be the famed princess. I heard she'd run off with you. I might just have to see if Cora will barter for her!"

"Unhand her at once!" Bae declared, rushing towards the duo. But Hook pushed him back easily with the side of the sword, the boy's bare hands no match for the weaponry.

"Easy, son. No need for anyone to get hurt here."

His paternal tone did not sit well with Bae. Grabbing Emma's makeshift sword from its spot against the wall, he stood poised for battle - no matter that the match was decidedly uneven. Panic and anger engulfing him, he began hollering at his once father-figure. "You destroyed my family once already when you stole my mother away - and again when you abandoned me to that demon. I will not let you hurt my wife!"

Hook's eyes lit up, a mere glance at the boy proving Cora's tale of a loveless marriage entirely false. His distraction gave Emma the opening she was waiting for. Taking advantage of his inattention, she stomped on his instep, wrenching herself out of his grip as he howled in pain. Feeling her pull away, the pirate moved to catch her again, left arm slamming down towards her throat. She reached up to block the blow, catching cold metal in her hand as she stopped the pirate's hook mere inches away from slicing into her skin. Keeping her grip firmly on the weapon, she moved again to writhe out of his grasp. This time she was successful, and much to her surprise she found herself holding the hook in her hand, having twisted it loose as she spun away. Once more the pirate lunged at her. Out of pure instinct, she flung the hook back at him before she ducked away, slipping under his arm. As she did so, she spotted the hook - lodged in his chest.

Despite a yowl of pain, the loss of his consolation prize caused the pirate to focus again on his original goal: Bae. The boy still held the wooden sword in his hand, and he raised it for defense as Hook stepped towards him. He parried as the sword came down, chipping away bits of the hardwood with each blow, the battle leading the duo deeper and deeper into the cave.

"Surrender yourself, boy. You're backed against a wall, nothing but a stick to defend yourself with. Even if you had a sword, you couldn't kill me - you're a coward, just like your father. You couldn't do it in Neverland, you won't do it now. Not even to save that princess you're in love with."

Bae blinked, confused at the statement. The moments that followed happened so quickly that he could barely reconstruct them in the days that followed. The pirate, taking advantage of his bewilderment, lunged at him - sword aimed straight for his midsection. Centuries of experience kicked in as Bae dove down, narrowly missing the thrust of the sword. The momentum carried the pirate forward, and all too late he noticed the cliff. He flailed, fumbling his sword in an attempt to catch his balance. But he was careening forward far too quickly to stop, and with a seemingly endless scream he tumbled into the waterfall, sword clanking into the pit behind him.

Moments ticked past as Bae stood in stunned silence. Then there were footsteps, and Emma appeared at his elbow, a torch in her hand. "Is he-"

"Dead?" He looked back at her, eyes wide. "I don't see how he could be anything but."

Together they slipped cautiously to the waterfall's edge, Emma extending the torch above the chasm. Bae leaned as far as he dared, looking back at Emma and shaking his head. Nothing.

Their eyes locked and he gave the slightest of nods. She released the torch and it fell, lighting the pit on the way down. They found it every bit as empty as it had been before it had swallowed the pirate.

Wordless still, they slid tentatively back towards the alcove, hands running along the cave wall to guide them in the dark. As they arrived, it was Emma who broke the silence.

"That was... your mother's..."

"My mother's."

"Neverland?"

"Only way he'd still be alive."

"Got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, doesn't he?"

Bae gave a crooked smile, placing a hand on the small of Emma's back as he ushered her into the alcove. "He devoted his life to killing my father." Looking Emma over, he furrowed his brow. "Are you okay?"

"Been worse. You?"

"Same."

She let out a shaky breath. "Bae..."

"Hm?"

"We have to leave, don't we." It was a statement, not a question, but still she looked at him, expectantly waiting a response.

Bae nodded. "If he's found us..."

"The rest could, too."

* * *

"There it is!" Charming dug his heels into the horse's sides, urging it into a run. Up ahead he spied the green shawl that Rumplestiltskin had poured the potion onto - the third such item they'd chased down that day, the first two lost into the ether.

He tugged the shawl out of the bramble where it had lodged itself, running alongside a rock face. The shawl reached out, a mind of its own, and he released it, prepared to give chase once again - only to have it fly right back into the bramble.

"It's broken."

"No such thing," Rumplestiltskin replied, appearing next to him. "What's the rock face here?"

"Pile of boulders to the north... looks like a solid slab of rock through here."

"We can examine it more closely," Rumplestiltskin said, glancing at the sky, "But it'll need to wait until morning. We've nearly lost our light."

"You want to stop looking?!"

"Well unless you've suddenly developed the night vision of a bat, it's less of a want and more of a necessity."

Charming grumbled, but Rumplestiltskin headed to his left, beckoning for him to follow. "There's a glade we just rushed through - fine spot for pitching a camp for the night. Come morning, we can try to suss out where the troublesome scarf is trying to go."

"Open sky camping with you, just what I've always hoped for," Charming replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Who said anything about open sky?" Rumplestiltskin said, rolling his eyes. He waved his hand and a fully supplied camp appeared in the glade; two tents and a fire with meat already roasting atop it. His horse trotted to one of the tents, where Rumplestiltskin dismounted and turned back to the prince.

He found him scowling. "I thought you weren't covering needs on this trip."

"Well now I know where your daughter gets her propensity for ingratitude!"

Forcing out a "Thanks," Charming maneuvered his own steed to the other tent and tied it up before he moved to the fire to warm himself. "You think we'll find them tomorrow?"

The sorcerer shrugged. "I don't know about your daughter, but if there's one thing my son is good at... it's running."

* * *

"You have everything?"

Discussion in the cave had been notably absent as the duo had packed, words limited to, "Here," and "Take this," as they stuffed all they had into their satchels. They hadn't amassed anything during their stay, really; it was a matter of packing up what they'd brought with them and adding the few tools they'd constructed and might find useful as they journeyed onward. They'd allowed the fire to burn down, adding more layers of clothing as the cave cooled, in turn leaving only half-full satchels to be slung over shoulders as Emma nodded in response to Bae's question.

"Yeah."

"Your shawl's still hung over there. Don't forget to grab it."

Emma shook her head. "It's sopping wet. Carrying it will only make me colder. It'll have to be left behind." A pause and then, "Ready?" Emma rubbed her hands together, the chill permeating through the half-worn fingers of her gloves.

Bae shrugged, no further discussion needed to know that 'ready' was a lie. It wasn't a choice - there were no options left. "Where to?"

"South," Emma replied, not even taking a moment to consider. "It'll be warmer."

Bae nodded and grabbed the torch they'd left lit to guide them. Emma followed closely behind him, careful to watch her step as they made their way to the mouth of the cave. He snuffed out the flame, leaving the stick propped against the wall - "In case we need it again someday," he said, shrugging. "You never know."

She nodded, following again as he maneuvered through the boulders, their satchels held high. Emerging from the mass of rocks, Bae paused; Emma leaned her head to the right, indicating their direction. "C'mon," she said, "South's this way."

He nodded as she marched forward, determination evident in her steps. On the run again. The story never changed, he supposed - only this time he'd embroiled a princess.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N - **Thanks for the reads and reviews on the last chapter. TW continues for another couple of chapters as a blanket policy. Continuing thanks to textbookone for her beta reading!

I really hope you guys like this one. It went... a little differently than it was originally supposed to. Please let me know your thoughts!

* * *

**CHAPTER 18**

* * *

Emma glanced over her shoulder to find Bae trailing behind her - wandering in a haze, as he'd been for the last few hours. She couldn't blame him - he'd had a nightmare walk into their home and accost them both, turning their lives upside down. It couldn't have been easy to have your life destroyed for a second time by someone you'd long supposed dead. She could only imagine the emotions that brought back - reminders of abandonment by his mother, reminders of his time on that island of horrors. Her heart ached for him, and it was no surprise to her that he was mired in the events of the cave.

Of course, for that matter, so was she. Not for the same reasons, of course; hers were far more selfish and she was trying her best to let it go. But that pirate had accused Bae of being in love with her… and worse, Bae hadn't denied it. Much as she tried to tell herself it was because he was distracted with far more important things - like keeping the two of them alive - she couldn't help replaying the moment over and over in her mind. "That princess you're in love with," that pirate had said, and whatever had made him think such a thing? Sure, Bae had been uncharacteristically possessive - since when did he call her his wife, anyways? - and protective, trying his best to save her, but that was just his nature. Wasn't it?

She questioned herself then, wondering what the outsider had seen that neither of them were privy to. Surely Bae wasn't in love with her - he wasn't one to hide much. Perhaps the pirate was just trying to unnerve them with baseless accusations. "But what if?" that little voice began again, the same one that had questioned his panic from the morning that now felt so long ago. That was two marks in the what if category... and that little voice was growing louder.

A glance over her shoulder strengthened her resolve to silence it. Bae had fallen further behind, barely lifting his feet as he walked. Who was she to be so wrapped up in her overly romantic notions at a time like this? He needed her, and if she truly loved him - perhaps it was time to stop denying that much, at least - then his needs should come first. That's what she'd heard from her parents, love is selfless, love is strength - and how could she lay claim to loving him if she were more focused on the reciprocation of her feelings than on the well-being of the boy she so adored?

She stopped and turned, trying in vain to meet his gaze. She'd expected that as they walked he'd open up - he usually did, given time - but instead he seemed to be drawing further inward.

Perhaps it was time for her to take on the role of protector for a while.

* * *

"Bae?"

"Hmm."

"Are you okay?"

He shook his head and she stopped, turning to face him. "Talk to me about it?"

His voice came out a whisper. "It's all my fault," he said, dropping his chin as his eyes fell to the ground. She closed the space between them almost immediately, planting herself in front of him and frowning as he averted his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, catching his chin in her hand. "Hey. It is _not_ your fault."

She felt his chin try to drop further, stopped only by her grip, and gently she traced his jawline with her thumb. As she stood looking at his broken, guilt-ridden posture - slumped shoulders, downtrodden expression - every fiber of her being ached to lean in and kiss his sorrows away. She drew in a ragged breath, relying on every bit of poise and restraint she'd practiced over her eighteen years as royalty to hold herself back from taking such advantage of his vulnerability. Instead she leaned forward, rising up on tiptoe. She placed her lips on his forehead in a far more chaste expression of her feelings, letting every bit of her love for him flow through and hoping he could somehow sense what she could not speak.

After a long moment, she tilted her head down, resting her forehead against Bae's and lifting his chin until she was able to catch his gaze. Whisper-soft, she reassured him once again. "None of this is your fault. Not your mother leaving, not your father's manipulations, not that pirate's murderous need for vengeance. They make their own decisions, and it's not your responsibility to stop them."

He broke her gaze, looking down as he shook his head and refuted her statement. "Emma, I-"

"No," she replied, her tone firm. She settled back onto her heels as she spoke. "I'll not have you blaming yourself for his death. If you hadn't ducked out of the way, he would've run you through with his sword. It was his own need for vengeance that killed him, not you. All you did was keep yourself from getting stabbed. There's no need for guilt in that." She drew a shaky breath in. "If he had succeeded, I... I don't know what I would've done. I can't do this alone, Bae."

He lifted his gaze back up and sent her a soft smile, appearing appreciative of the reassurances - even if she knew he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them. "You won't have to, Emma. I promised to take care of you, and I don't break my promises."

"We promised to take care of _each other_, if I recall correctly," she pointed out, sending him a gentle smile and grabbing his hand as she began to walk again. "I haven't need of a knight to rescue me, but having a comrade in all of this is worth more than I could possibly express."

She felt her arm move up and down slightly, and despite the fact that he was half a step behind her, she knew that he'd shrugged - another tell of when she tried to give him credit for something he didn't feel worthy of. "It's the least I can do, after all my father put you through."

Shaking her head, she glanced back over her shoulder as she rebutted his statement. "Bae, you need to stop blaming yourself! Your father and my parents made a deal. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't my fault, and in all honesty, if I was going to be married off to someone I could have done a whole lot worse." She sent a grin to her left, hoping the light tone and jovial grin hid how intensely she meant that statement.

He managed a small smile - for her benefit, she knew - and her heart leapt that she'd been able to save him from a bit of his misery. It was her new mission, she decided in that moment. She might not be able to tell him how much he was loved, but at a minimum, she was going to ensure he knew how much he was valued.

* * *

"That was our last item?" Charming said, looking at Rumplestiltskin with panic in his eyes. "It just flew off the cliff and - gone."

"It's just as well," the sorcerer replied. "We're nearly out of potion."

"I can't accept that," Charming said, turning from where they'd chased the scarf to the edge of the cliff. "They can't all have just disappeared. Perhaps some of the ones we lost yesterday got lodged somewhere in those boulders down there - I'm going to look."

With that, the prince darted towards the side of the mountain, barely keeping head above heels as he rushed down the side. They'd spent the last several hours repeatedly untangling the scarf from the brush on the mountain's side. They took it back to the glade where they'd camped and finally then it climbed the ridge, leaving them to follow on foot. As they neared the top, it flitted off into the distance, disappearing from sight.

Rumplestiltskin followed the prince at a much more leisurely pace. If it were up to him, they would've long since given up on this wild goose chase. Something was amiss - perhaps in the brewing of the potion, or in the ownership of the item. But the prince wouldn't hear of it, bound and determined that the collection of tunics, scarves and shawls would lead them to the children they so desperately sought.

By the time he arrived at the foot of the mountain, the prince had clambered through a number of boulders. "It's gotta be here somewhere," he muttered, and only in the still of the countryside was he audible. As he reached the vertical rock face of the cliff on which they had just stood, he slid off of the rocks and onto the ground. "There's some clearance back here," he hollered. "Perhaps it's on the ground - aah!"

The prince disappeared from sight completely, leaving Rumplestiltskin momentarily baffled. Moments later, he popped back out. "There's a cave!"

Having no interest in climbing across the boulders as the prince had done, Rumplestiltskin flickered into the cave just in front of the Prince, materializing with a torch in his hand.

"Mind the slope," he said, holding the light out to guide the bewildered prince into the cave.

To his credit, Charming didn't comment on Rumplestiltskin's sudden appearance, merely following him as he walked deeper into the blackness. Before long, a small alcove appeared to the left - pallets assembled of sticks and leaves, a circle of stones with charred branches in the center.

"A camp," Charming declared, breath heavy with excitement. "This must be theirs!"

"Or it was," Rumplestiltskin replied, stepping into the space. "Fire's cold."

"At least they had a fire."

"And separate beds," Rumplestiltskin said, gesturing at the pallets that lay at either side of the alcove. "I told you Bae posed no threat to your princess."

The prince grunted, snatching up a long branch and lighting it off of the torch that Rumplestiltskin carried. "I'll check the rest of the cave."

As Charming wandered deeper into the cavern, Rumplestiltskin continued to study the area they'd just discovered. Indeed, upon first glance there were two pallets, laid out on either side of the remnants of the fire. But a closer inspection told a different story. The left pallet consisted of a narrow arrangement of sticks, doing little more than providing the barest of buffers between its occupant and the floor. The pallet on the right, however, was a bit more substantial. Its base of sticks was covered in a thick layer of dried leaves and greenery, along with an odd feather scattered here or there. It was wider than the other - by a good measure. Also of interest was the fire pit; soot marks on the ground lay not only inside the current circle of stones, but trailed to the right as well - as if it had originally been centered between the cots.

As he considered the change in its position and the disparity between the beds, Rumplestiltskin began to smirk. Yes, the children had indeed arrived at the cave sleeping in separate beds. Judging from the scene before him, they hadn't remained that way. Perhaps time spent living together in a cave had drawn them together in a way the cottage never could.

Upon further thought, he realized it was best not to share this finding with his comrade. The prince was short enough on temper already, and Rumplestiltskin didn't need to give him another reason to go gunning for Bae. That was the real motive behind agreeing to work with the prince, of course; no telling what he'd do once he found the duo and Rumplestiltskin would prefer to be there to ensure that nothing went awry. He wouldn't be losing Bae again.

Studying the evidence in the cave, it was clear that the duo knew how to take care of themselves. The beds, the fire, evidence of food - much as he hated not having his son close, perhaps allowing him time to bond with the princess was a greater priority in the moment. They'd run, hadn't come to their parents for help - and he imagined they'd stay away until Cora was caught. And it seemed they'd grown quite close in the process, just as he'd hoped they would. Perhaps it was best to focus on the Cora problem, leave the children to lean on each other for a while. Once it was safe, they'd undoubtedly come home - he couldn't imagine the spirited princess choosing cave dwelling as her preferred habitat.

"I found a shawl," came Charming's voice, the prince appearing at his elbow.

So focused on the situation in front of him was Rumplestiltskin that he hadn't heard the man approach. Startled, he turned to Charming, hoping to keep him from studying the scene before them too closely. "Oh?"

"It's Emma's. They were here."

"Yet it seems they've fled again. I wonder why."

Charming shrugged. "No matter. This is still wet from washing - they haven't been gone long. We'll just dump your potion on it and be right behind them."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, eyeing the damp cloth. As he pulled the vial out, he studied it for a moment. "This'll be the last of it."

"And then what."

"We go home. I make more. We start again."

Charming nodded, the scowl on his face speaking to his displeasure at the concept. He extinguished his torch, tossing it to the side and holding his hand out for the potion. Rumplestiltskin handed it over, and as Charming flicked the glass vial, the last of the potion brought the shawl to life. It lilted into the air, albeit lower than normal due to its waterlogged state, and both men followed as it flew to the back of the cave. There it struck the back wall before rebounding into the waterfall and being carried down into the abyss.

"So much for your magic," Charming spat, stalking back towards Rumplestiltskin. He snatched the torch from his hands and continued stomping towards the mouth of the cave.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, conjuring another torch. He spent another moment taking in the alcove before turning to follow the prince. Yes... a delay in finding the children may be just what they needed.

* * *

Emma's resolve to tuck her romantic notions out of sight lasted but a couple of hours. As Bae's guilt seemed to wane, she found herself drifting again to the events of the day, moments echoing through her mind, playing over and over in a never ending cacophony.

_"...That princess you're in love with."_

_"I won't let you take my wife!"_

_"...You were gone."_

_"...But what if?"_

That little voice was growing, moving from a whisper to a dull roar. "What if," it said, but no longer was it_ "What if he feels the same?" _but instead,_ "What if you're making both of you miserable?"_

After all, Bae had far too much kindness, too much honor, to ever put her in such an awkward position. For him to even consider it - well, he wouldn't. He'd consider it an affront to her honor, an insult to her status...

He'd be wrong.

She couldn't quiet that voice any more - hers, Bae's, even that dreadful pirate's - not until she knew. She might regret it to her dying day, but surely asking him about his own actions would be far less humiliating than pining like a schoolgirl. Wouldn't it?

Taking a breath, she put her better sense aside.. "Bae, about what happened in the cave-"

"Hm?"

"The cave. I - I wanted to talk about it."

She glanced back to find Bae's eyes narrowed, his expression darkened. "Which part?"

"The pirate, he - he said some things."

"He said a lot of things, Emma. I'm sorry that you had to hear them."

The boy was oblivious to her plight. Emma's heart hammered in her chest as she realized she'd need to be more specific. "I... you called me your wife."

He exhaled. "You _are_ my wife."

"And he said - well - I guess he more _accused_ you of being in love with me."

When he didn't answer, she chanced a glance over her shoulder to find him stock still, eyes closed, breathing carefully through his nose. Her own breath caught and she waited seconds - minutes, maybe - for an answer. When one didn't come, she finished the question.

"Are you?"

He shrugged, no change in expression, no movement aside from the slight rise and fall of his shoulders. Another moment passed, and as the tension hung between them, the words tumbled from Emma's mouth like water spilling from a glass - finding herself powerless to stop them.

"Because I'm in love with you."

At her declaration his eyes popped open, shock washing over every last one of his features. "Princess, I-"

"Don't 'princess' me. We're well beyond that. I just need to know if that pirate's accusation is true. Do you love me?"

He blew out a breath. "I - I fear I've formed an attachment..."

"An attachment," she said, trying her best to mask her disappointment. "Is that all."

"I -" He hesitated, appearing to war with himself before he continued. "It can't be more than that."

"It can't -" Her expression darkened. "I see." She turned on her heel and began walking again, wishing more than anything she had her makeshift sword, the length of wood allowing her to take out her frustration on the brush. But no, the pirate had destroyed that, too.

"Emma," she heard from behind her, and she didn't have to look to know the expression on his face, pleading with her as he tried to smooth things over. "Emma, please."

"Please what," she asked, wheeling on him, a sudden onset of tears hot in her eyes. "Please humiliate myself more?"

He shook his head. "Please don't ask me to… Emma, you have to understand. I _can't_ love you."

She began to walk again as she chuckled, an angry, sarcastic sound. "Because I'm a princess?"

His chin dropped again before he spoke, voice low and uncertain. "Because everything I ever love gets ripped away from me. I can't go through it again."

She stopped once more and this time the tears were those of compassion instead of humiliation. "Oh, Bae," she said, shaking her head. "I would never - I _could_ never do that to you. To hurt you like that... how cruel would I be, to know your deepest fears and be the one to make you realize them?"

He shrugged, toe scuffing at the ground. "Everyone else has."

She blew out a breath, steadying herself. "Bae. Look at me."

He shook his head, studying the scar he'd made in the dirt.

"Baelfire."

Her tone must have struck something within him, for finally he met her gaze. "I'm not everyone else. I'm just Emma - not a princess, not heir to the kingdom, not the girl forced to marry you - just Emma. And I'm telling you that I choose you. Over everything... I'd pick you over it all."

"You have a kingdom to run," he scoffed. "A people to be accountable to."

"And they all matter less than you."

She stared back at him, jaw set, no intention of backing down as she watched him churn her words over in his head.

"But your parents-"

"No. You."

He evaded her gaze again and she plunged ahead. "They're my parents, I love them. And it's my kingdom, I'm responsible to it. I've been given all of that, had it laid on my shoulders, and I'll accept the responsibility. But you - I _choose_ you. And if I had to choose between you and all of that, I'm almost ashamed to admit how easy the decision would be.

"All my life, I've been told what my path would be. This is the first thing I've chosen - for me - because it's what I wanted. Please don't tell me I can't have it because I've been saddled with the responsibility of the kingdom. If it's because you don't love me - okay - I can accept that. And if it's because you can't risk getting hurt, I love you enough not to ask you to put yourself on the line. But if it's because you feel unworthy because of my status or my responsibilities or whatever…" She pushed out a breath. "Please don't make me lose the only thing I've ever wanted because of something that's eclipsed who I am for my whole life. This is about you and me… not whatever lies out there."

She caught her breath again, afraid to breathe in the silence that persisted after her speech. His eyes were on the ground again, toe digging in the ever-deepening scuff mark he'd made in the soft forest dirt. Finally he pushed out a breath, breaking the silence. "No one's ever chosen me before."

"Well they're all idiots," she said, scoffing. "You deserve to be reminded of your worth, not walked upon for those things that make you amazing."

He snorted. "I'd hardly say amazing."

"It's a good thing I'm not asking you then." She took a turn at kicking at the ground. "You're doing a marvelous job of avoiding the question, you know."

He blew out a breath. "I know."

"Is it true, what he said? Are you in love with me?"

She waited as he frowned and returned to working on his spot in the ground. He was thinking, she knew - how to respond? How to let her down slowly? She almost regretted the whole conversation - here was the awkwardness she was so dreading, her whole reason for suppressing her feelings in the first place - when finally he spoke.

"I don't think I'd thought about it, really. When he said that, I - I faltered. 'Am I?' I don't suppose I've ever had a great template of what love is; my mother didn't love my father, certainly; as a boy I thought my father loved me - but is it really love when it's corrupted so easily?

"I suppose if I'd ever stopped to think about it, I would have assumed I was in love with you. You're a princess, I'm a peasant - that's how it's supposed to be, right? Adoration and undying devotion?" She started to speak, to refute his notions of her status, but he held up a hand to silence her. "But _Emma_ \- not the princess - well, that's a bit different."

He smiled then, and her insides clenched up, the dangerous edge of hope beginning to push through. Her breath caught again - waiting - entire future pinned on his next words.

"What is love, really? It should be protective, not destructive; you shouldn't say you love someone and then sell them out or forsake them for a shiny object or an opportunity for power. I know that you're the first person in centuries I've connected with, trusted, felt understood by. Felt at ease with. The first person I've considered a friend. And, I know after this morning-"

He caught her gaze, letting out a heavy sigh and steeling himself for his next statement - the admission as much to himself as it was to her. "I know you're the first person I've _needed_ in a very long time. That's a terrifying feeling, after centuries of being alone and surviving without anyone else. I woke this morning and when I couldn't find you, I was utterly panicked. But once I'd found you, I panicked even more at the wave of relief I felt. And though I tried to tell myself it was because I'd made a promise to your parents… it wasn't. It's because I don't know how I'd continue on without the one person whom I've come to rely on."

She watched him, sorting his feelings aloud, giving him space to work himself out. She wanted to tell him friendship and reliance were but a short leap to love - she knew that better than anyone. To remind him of how protective he'd been of her - from the start, but especially hours earlier when he'd been faced with the possibility of losing her. But she forced herself to stay silent, instead encouraging him to continue with a supportive look, a nod, patience that she didn't really possess. His answer served as her reward.

"Emma, when that pirate threatened to harm you... only then did I realize how dear you'd become to me. I couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt, of losing you, of going forward without you. Still can't. But if it's necessary, if it's best for you, best for your kingdom… I remain willing to abide by my original promise."

Her brow furrowed. "Why would you do such a thing? Haven't you heard a word I've said?"

He shrugged, a roll of the shoulders as he feigned indifference. "I made a promise."

"And I'm releasing you from it. From all of it, if you wish. What do _you_ want, Bae?"

"To keep you safe from Cora."

The response came quickly, but it hung in the air - the rest of the words unsaid. But Emma, for all her weeks of misery, needed to hear them. "And?"

"To remain at your side." A moment of hesitation, a blink and then, "as your husband."

Emma's arms were around him instantly, crushing him in an embrace. He buried his nose in the crink of her neck and they remained there for an indeterminable amount of time, pent up emotions and fears and the weight of the day melting away in the security of each other's arms. Warm and safe, a contrast to their lives at present, and a refuge from the fears of the world. Finally Emma drew back, holding her love at arms length and catching his eyes.

"Truly, Bae, you feel as I do?"

He nodded. "I love you."

"And I you," she exhaled, curling back into his embrace once again.

Seconds passed, and then a minute, before she looked up at him - love and trust shining in her eyes. "What now, Bae?"

"We need to keep moving, get you out of here. No telling who else Cora might have on our tail."

She nodded, reluctantly slipping out of his embrace. Grabbing his hand, she intertwined her fingers in his, clinging to them - reluctant to break the long sought after connection. "How far do you think we should go?" she asked, beginning to walk again.

He shrugged, an affable action this time, far removed from the show of despondence he harbored earlier. "As far away as we can get, I suppose."

Her brow furrowed as she thought. "There's a town I know, a small village out toward the end of the realm - Lincolnshire. Daddy and I visited it once on our way back from a neighboring kingdom. It's in a far off corner of the kingdom and I can't imagine anyone would look for us there."

He nodded. "It's how far?"

"About three days' journey by carriage."

His brow furrowed. "We have no carriage, Emma..."

"I know." She matched his frown, well aware of the odds stacked against them.

"You think we should go that far by foot?"

"Clearly we're not safe in this area. The further away we can get, the better. Besides," she said, squeezing his hand, "as long as we're together, who cares how far we have to go?"

He laughed then, marveling at the change from the girl who had spent the last weeks skulking around the cave. "My feet do, Emma dear," he replied, teasing her.

"They can rest when we get to safety. They'll have no purpose if the rest of you is dead."

He laughed, the sound a most welcome contrast to the tension that surrounded them. "Fair enough. I suppose it's off to Lincolnshire we go."

Hand in hand they marched ahead, little discussion as they pushed south towards a warmer climate and an unknown future. Somehow, in the moment those worries seemed to fade, eclipsed by the security of each having the other standing steadfast by their side.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Really hoping I still have some readers for this! No beta this time - so any mistakes are my own. -DSB**

* * *

David, in his various lives ranging from shepherd to royal, had lived through his share of rotten days. Being forced to assume his brother's identity, Regina's war on his kingdom, his mother's death. And though two decades' worth of time - or more - had faded those memories, he was reasonably certain that the prior day rivaled any of them.

The morning had begun with promise; the discovery of the cave where Rumplestiltskin's boy had been hiding Emma. But with the loss of their final lead on the duo, he had no choice but to head home. Now, when he and Rumplestiltskin had set out, the sorcerer had wanted to enchant David's horse in order to expedite the journey. David had, of course, refused - not wanting his magnificent beasts to be exposed to such vile magic. Instead he'd agreed to ride one from Rumplestiltskin's stable; a caramel-colored mare that was apparently favored by his beloved daughter. He felt closer to her, somehow, setting atop the horse that had carried her back and forth from the place of her temporary imprisonment to her rightful home.

Once he got that girl home, he was never letting her go again, he had decided. Life at the castle just wasn't right without her.

After the waterfall had devoured Emma's shawl and they'd emerged from the cave, Rumplestiltskin had declared that he'd no interest in the hours-long ride back to the prince's palace. He'd left Charming to endure the journey on his own, informing the prince that once he dismounted at the end of his ride, the horse was enchanted to immediately return to its stall at the Dark Castle.

Charming, in his naivete, didn't realize that meant _anytime_ he dismounted.

So three hours into the ride, he stopped at a stream for a break of necessity and thirst. He alighted from the horse, took two steps towards the stream and then - upon hearing a peculiar whooshing noise - turned back around to find his saddlebag in a heap on the ground, the horse gone.

This meant that not only did he have to cover the rest of the distance on foot, he had to do so while carrying both his own provisions _and_ the horse's tack.

Sunset had come and gone by the time he trudged up the walk to his castle, in want of only his wife's embrace and a goblet of wine - in precisely that order.

He got neither.

Instead, two steps inside the gate, a young servant came flying down off of the stoop towards him. "Come quickly, your highness - it's the Princess!"

Dropping his things, he flew into the house, heart light at the return of his daughter. Bounding into the foyer, he expected much joy and merriment - only to find long faces and downcast eyes. "Princess Snow is in her chambers," Bashful said, and the prince only then realized something was amiss - that the servant had meant Snow and not Emma. And why were the dwarves up for a visit? "Doc is with her."

Doc. The mere word incited the prince again. Why was Doc with Snow? Prince Charming darted towards their chambers with little regard over whom he passed along the way. Snow lie in their bed, looking small and pale under a mountain of blankets. Her left leg was entrenched in a peculiar contraption, encased in bandages and suspended from ropes and pulleys. Her eyes opened slightly at his entrance, but fell back closed without a word - as if she hadn't noticed him standing there at all.

"What happened?" he asked Doc, anxiousness drenching his voice.

"It's difficult to know exactly," the Dwarf replied, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses on his face. "Her page found her crumpled on the stone in the foyer, at the foot of the stairs. She must've fallen. She was muttering something about Cora earlier - but it's impossible to know whether the fall was due to Cora or if she's simply voicing her fears about your daughter. In any event, the break in her leg is quite bad - she'll be out of commission for some time. I've got her sedated to ease the pain - but she seems all right aside from the leg and some bruising. I'd say you got lucky, son."

"Lucky!" Charming exclaimed. "You're telling me my wife is in my pain and tied up in that -" he waved his hand idly at the traction machine, feelings of helplessness showing in his gestures "- that contraption, and implying that I'm _lucky_?"

"It's amazing she wasn't killed, your highness," Doc replied, his voice low and calm to counter the prince's distress. "She'll heal. It will take time, but you have my word that your wife will heal."

Charming huffed and walked past the dwarf into Snow's chamber. He would have liked to call the physician they'd been using to manage Johanna, but Snow would have his head if he dared insinuate anyone's expertise exceeded that of her beloved dwarves. Pulling a chair to her bedside, he eyed the traction machine warily. He clasped her hand tightly between his own, pressing his lips to her fingers. "Dearest Snow," he whispered, tears prickling at his eyes, "Whatever happened to you? How did you get like this?"

The princess merely whimpered, grimacing in her sleep. Charming's brow furrowed; some sedation Doc had given her! It was too much - just too much - to watch his beloved go through this. And all because of Cora!

"Oh, Snow," he whispered, lips still pressed to her fingers, "Sixteen years of peace. And then just like that - the Dark One reappears, Emma's gone, Cora's back. What happened to our calm, peaceful life?"

He laid his head on the bed beside his wife - pillowing his head atop their joined hands. A silent tear leaked from his eye as the day's trauma caught up to him, and he supposed he must have slept. Not that he felt rested - but at some point he woke to Snow's whimpers and Doc's soft voice attempting to calm her.

"Here now, just sip the tea my dear," the dwarf murmured. "It'll help take the pain away."

Charming lifted his weary head, the crink in his neck ignored as he glanced at his wife, the weight of her discomfort seeping in. Sitting up, he reached for the cup. "I'll help her," he said, causing Doc to draw back.

"There's no need, my Prince, I'm happy to tend to her-"

"I said I'll help her!" Charming yelled, leaping to his feet and snatching the cup from the dwarf. A strangled cry from Snow drew his attention, and he sat almost as quickly as he'd stood. "Snow, my love, I didn't mean to frighten you…" He moderated his voice, bringing the teacup to her lips. "Here, my dear, drink." She took a small sip before her face contorted in pain again and she let out another whimper. "Snow, please drink it. Doc says it will ease your pain."

He coaxed another small sip into her before looking back at the dwarf, still standing by Snow's bedside. "There's nothing more to be done?"

Doc shook his head. "The herbs in the tea are the strongest I know for easing her pain. I'm sorry, son… We'll just have to keep her as comfortable as possible. With healing comes pain." Squeezing the prince on the shoulder, he slipped out of the room, leaving the royal couple alone in each other's company.

Charming coaxed another few sips of tea into Snow - a quarter of the cup, at best - as he watched her grimace in pain with every movement she made. She still wasn't totally conscious, not really - as if she were sleeping through the ordeal. Charming set the cup on the nightstand and adjusted the pillows behind her, hoping to prop her into a better position for drinking, and as he did so he noticed the wetness upon her cheeks - the tears she shed even in her sedated state. Balling his hands at his sides, he let out a low growl - enough to make Snow whimper once more. There had to be something to do for her - something more than traction and teas. She couldn't be like this for weeks - he simply couldn't bear to see her in this state. There had to be another way.

Of course. The very source of the problem could be the answer.

_Rumplestiltskin_.

David called the name, once, firmly, and the sorcerer appeared instantaneously, gaze fixated on the fireplace. Turning, he made a face. "Didn't I just see you?"

Charming stalked towards him, demanding assistance. "I need your help."

Rumple wrinkled his nose. "Not sure your bedchamber is someplace I wish to lend my assistance."

"Dispense with your attitude! Can't you see that Snow is injured?"

Rolling his eyes, Rumple crossed the room to stand near the princess. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. Of course I did."

"Heal her."

The sorcerer walked around the bed, studying Snow, the traction system and lastly the leg itself. Finally he looked back at Charming, sympathy creeping into his expression as he shook his head. "Injuries like this… They're best left to heal on their own. Speeding the healing with magic… somehow it never ends up quite right." He grimaced, recalling his own ankle, the limp masked by magic but never truly healed. "Treatment from Doc will be her best course of action."

"There must be something you can do!" Charming cried, his yell causing Snow to whimper once again as he disturbed her slumber. Lowering his voice, he continued. "I can't bear to see her like this."

Rumple's face softened, recalling his affinity for the bandit-turned-princess. "Healing the injury would not be wise. But the pain - I can do something about that." He waved his hand over the princess' leg, a faint purple shimmer floating across her skin. "She'll still feel a little - enough for Doc to know whether the treatment is progressing well - but she'll be able to rest comfortably."

"And the price?"

Rumple smirked. "The cure is its own price with this one, dearie. You see, pain is self-limiting. She does something that will make the injury worse, she hurts, she stops. You remove the pain, well - something will need to keep her in bed, keep her still, keep her from pushing herself too hard too quickly. That something… Well, it's you."

Charming studied him, trying to suss out the true cost of the magic. "Meaning?"

"You'll need to stay here, by Snow's side, for the next six weeks. You'll need to keep her grounded, focused on her healing - run your little kingdom while she cannot. And that means that what you cannot do is-"

"Find Emma."

"Precisely."

Charming's face hardened. "I'm not leaving my daughter out there all alone! Surely someone else can sit with Snow-"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "You have someone she'll listen to, keep in bed when the needs of the kingdom are calling and you're gallivanting about the countryside looking for the long-lost Princess?"

"She's not lost! She's been kidnapped - by your son!"

Rolling his eyes, Rumplestiltskin dismissed the accusation with a wave of his hand. "I believe we determined earlier today that was not the case at all. If Bae wished her harm, I assure you he would go about it in a far simpler manner. Whyever they've run off, your princess is complicit in their journey." Charming moved to object again and Rumplestiltskin raised his right hand, two fingers extended. "Two beds, remember?"

Charming grumbled before eying the sorcerer warily. "You'll continue looking for her?"

"Well I'll continue looking for my son… luckily for you I'm sure wherever I find him, she'll not be far behind."

"And I have your word you'll ensure her safety once you find her?"

"I'll do her no harm, if that's what you're asking. What good does it do for me to present my son with a bride if she's dead?"

Charming sighed, reminding himself that Snow's wellbeing was tantamount to the wellbeing of the kingdom. "Very well then. I'll stay with Snow. Just…" He fidgeted. "Father to father. Find my daughter, please. Her being gone, I can't bear it."

An expression crossed Rumplestiltskin's face for a moment - just for a moment, gone quickly enough that Charming wondered if he might have imagined it. "Your girl will be fine," he replied. "Bae will see to it that no harm will befall her. You've no idea the fortune that befell your daughter with that union." Slipping back behind the mask of the imp, he continued. "Focus your energy on your wife, and don't forget the tea now - wouldn't want Doc to get suspicious."

With that he winked at the prince and disappeared every bit as quickly as he'd arrived. Charming watched after him, marveling at how even after two decades the sorcerer could still surprise him. It's almost as if he'd wanted Charming off of Emma's trail - but why?

* * *

Having walked all through the night and into the next day, Emma and Bae found themselves nearly overwhelmed by exhaustion. They found a small crevice in a rock face and tucked themselves away for slumber, for the first time pressed closely together for companionship as much as for warmth.

The next morning, Emma woke disoriented and confused, a cold wind whipping around the rock face. Instinct led her to tug the blanket more tightly around her, but she found her movements restricted by an arm that was wrapped around her midsection. She panicked at the contact, stiffening as she wondered how Bae had managed to roll so far from his usual spot. But it took only moments for her to recall the previous day's events - Bae _loved_ her! - and the recollection that her affections were reciprocated enveloped her in a warmth that not even the bitter wind could tear away.

She relaxed deeper into his embrace, drawing his arm further around her and reveling in its warmth. Catching hold of his hand, she examined it, drinking in each detail in the quiet morning light. The skin was rougher now - gone was the softness of the hand that had helped her as they escaped over his father's wall, replaced by cuts, scrapes and callouses. Each mark, she realized, was acquired in pursuit of keeping her safe, an expression of love before either of them had even realized it. When his protection of her had turned from duty to love, she wasn't sure - perhaps he didn't know himself. But the end result was unmistakable - he loved her! - and the thought was utterly intoxicating. She'd loved him enough to keep her feelings hidden, but she was finding that being able to express her affection only served to strengthen it.

A slight stirring beside her broke her reverie. "Hey beautiful," she heard him whisper, and her heart leapt at the sound.

"Morning," she replied, shifting to face her husband - and wasn't that convenient, already being married. No accusations of impropriety against the princess, at least. A slow smile lit her face as she drank in the sight of his ruffled hair and sleep-clouded eyes. "Yesterday wasn't a dream, then," she said, letting out a contented sigh.

"Indeed not," came the reply, and her smile slid into a grin.

"I love you," she breathed, unable to contain the words now that the floodgates had been opened. She punctuated her words with a lingering kiss, tentative but not uncertain.

"And I you, princess."

They'd risen then, and as Bae had rolled up the blankets and tucked them into their satchels, Emma tugged her shawl tightly around her before digging her hands deep into its pockets. Her fingers brushed against something cold - hard - metal - and upon drawing it out she grinned. "The change from my boots," she'd exclaimed, and Bae had matched her smile.

It wasn't much, to be sure, but it bought them enough at market to give them a buffer on starvation.

* * *

Several days later, the duo walked side by side late into the evening. Theirs was a quiet love, it turned out - none of the splashy brashness that some love affairs have, but rather a calm, reassuring foundation to which they both clung in the uncertainty of their future. Emma often caught herself glancing over at Bae - needing to see him by her side, sending her the small smile that said all that she needed to hear. Just as often, she'd catch him looking over, seeming to scrutinize her - as if he was trying to decide whether he could trust in her promises - or perhaps as if he were just waiting for fate to snatch her away as quickly as it had taken everything else he'd loved.

She'd just squeeze his hand tighter when she'd catch him, her thumb worrying at his knuckles, knowing that the contact eased his anxiousness more effectively than words ever could. There was nothing she could say that he didn't already know, that she hadn't already told him - but the words couldn't change his well-earned fears, and she didn't hold that against him. It wasn't that he didn't believe _her_, that he didn't trust _her_, she knew - it was that he didn't trust in _life_ to let him rest in happiness for even a few moments.

Silence abounded as they walked, small talk holding little value to the duo who couldn't rightfully be called children anymore. The cave had changed them - falling in love had changed them - and their circumstances seemed to magnify their maturity tenfold. Emma felt hard-pressed to identify with the princess who had stood in the marketplace a mere month prior - skittish and scrambled as she let her panic run away with her. Despite the similarity in circumstance, running this time was different - felt different - if only because she had the sense they were running _to_ something as much as they were running away.

Having a destination changed the tenor - almost as much as being a _they_. A future - no matter how wobbly and uncertain - that they could put a name to. "When we get to Lincolnshire," the conversations would start, full of hope and plans and promises they both knew would probably never come to fruition. For it was temporary - only a stopgap - a haven in which to take refuge while those more capable dealt with the problem at hand. But it was a promise, an ideal of a life with few complications, and it was enough to propel them forward when their feet were on fire and their stomachs twisted with hunger.

The leftovers from their picnic hadn't lasted long - not when they'd walked nearly a day straight. And the coppers Emma found in her pocket bought only a few morsels, the last of the bread having served as their dinner that evening. As they walked on, Bae caught Emma stifling a yawn. Taking that as a cue to turn in for the night, he pointed out a barn that he had spotted a short distance from the road. The farmhouse lay a good distance beyond it, lessening the likelihood that the rightful owners would take notice of intruder and leading Bae to suggest it as a shelter for the night.

"You want us to sleep in with the cattle and swine?" Emma asked.

He laughed. "Not in _with_ them, just in their general vicinity. We'll find warmth within the barn, far safer than sleeping out in the open."

"Nonsense. I've got you and our lovely blankets... plenty of warmth."

Bae rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Come on. You loiter down near the road and I'll check it out."

Emma frowned. "I'm not staying down here without you-"

"No sense in both of us getting caught. Who will come rescue the dotty boy who wanders halfwittedly into barns if we are caught breaking in together?"

She laughed. "We'll need a signal then - an all clear of some sort."

"Give me two minutes. If you haven't heard from me, you can assume it's safe. I'll whistle if there's danger."

"A whistle? Surely you can do better than that."

"My birdcall is a bit rusty."

She rolled her eyes at him before giving him a gentle shove towards the barn. "Go on. Two minutes."

By the time she crept alongside the barn and entered through the door he'd left cracked open for her, he had climbed into the hayloft above the stalls. In the moonlight that seeped in through the open door, she could see him leaning out from the loft, grinning. He gestured for her to shut the door behind herself. Once she had done so, she headed for the ladder, only to find her husband waiting at the top of it.

"Here, hand your bag up," he said. "It's an easier climb without it."

She clambered up the first two rungs before having gained enough height to do as he'd asked, then made it the rest of the way up to join him. Looking around, she observed the neatly stacked bales of hay before looking at her husband and raising an eyebrow. "You want to sleep up here?"

"There's an area in the corner where the twine has been cut from the bales and the hay is loose. It should provide a reasonably soft sleeping surface."

"Scratchy, though," she said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed as he headed for the corner in question. "I think you could find fault with any bedding I locate for you, my dear. Come now, your inner princess is shining through."

She attempted to level a glare at him, but the effort was undermined as corner of her mouth turned up in the start of a smile. "My inner princess would never be caught anywhere without a feather duvet, let alone sleeping in caves and barns and the like. I believe it was for that reason that we left her behind at your father's."

"Ah yes, she refused to leave her hairbrush."

"Precisely!" She sighed. "Some days I think she was wise."

"Come now, this last month hasn't been so bad," he said, sitting himself down on the floor of the loft, back propped against the wall. He offered her a hand once he was seated and she took it, accepting his assistance as she settled herself next to him.

"No, not all of it," she said, leaning into his side. "Some parts have been downright wonderful."

"The part where you learned how to start a fire?" he replied, a small smile threatening to break through his sarcasm.

She laughed. "I was more speaking of the part where I fell in love with my own husband."

"Ah yes, that part. I was rather fond of that part myself," he replied, the sparkle in his eye betraying his amusement.

"Oh shush," she reprimanded him with a scowl, "You didn't even notice."

"Only because you took care to hide it from me!"

"Well, whatever would you have done if I'd broken our trust? The whole premise of our friendship was that we were both miserable!"

"I think I much prefer the current premise," he replied with a wry smile.

"Yes, I suppose it is preferable," she said, letting out a contented sigh. They lapsed into silence, Emma staring blankly into a far off corner of the barn as her thoughts consumed her.

Bae must have caught the worry that crept across her face, as he looked down at her, brow furrowed. "What?"

"What are we gonna do, Bae," she asked plaintively.

"What do you mean?"

"Once we get to Lincolnshire. We've no money and nowhere to live and no marketable skills - and even if we did, we need to remain out of sight. How are we going to survive out there?"

"I don't know, Emma. We'll figure it out as we go along, I suppose," he said with a shrug.

"Hm." She frowned, not reassured by his unworried attitude.

"Do you have a better answer?"

"No." She paused, taking a moment to release a deep sigh. "I hate that we're stuck in this predicament. I hate that instead of planning a life together like normal newlyweds we're stuck running for our lives from a crazy sorceress. And I hate that we've no idea when, or even if, we'll be able to return to our home to develop some sense of normalcy."

"I know."

She sighed again, leaning more heavily against him. "I'd just like to have the ability to know what my life is going to look like more than five minutes out. Your father showed up and turned things upside down, then just when I'd started to find my footing again, Cora became a threat... and then it was that infernal pirate. Will this forever be our life?"

He shook his head adamantly. "I won't let it be."

"How can you promise that, though?"

"I don't know, Emma. I just do. If we want things to play out differently, then we need to take hold and make it so. We'll get to Lincolnshire and build a life there, away from the madness of the feud that is between Cora and our parents. Once they've settled it, we can go back."

She bit her lip, considering his plan. "But how will we know when it's safe to return?"

He shrugged. "How did we know we needed to leave? We'll hear things, someone will travel with news of home... we'll just figure it out as we go."

She studied him for a moment, his features dimly illuminated by the shards of moonlight seeping through the loft's small window. "Is this how you've lived your life?" she asked, voice soft. "Flitting from place to place, figuring it out as you've gone along?"

He shrugged again, ducking his head in the self-conscious manner he always got when she asked about his past. "I haven't always had a lot of choice," he replied, his tone matching hers. "I've done what I needed to do to survive."

She frowned and leaned her head on his shoulder, her hand finding his and giving it a squeeze. "It's so different than what I'm used to. But somehow," she said, looking up at him and giving him a small smile, "You make me feel like it could be okay."

"It will be okay," he said firmly. "It's my job to make it so."

They sat silently for a while before Emma noticed that he was beginning to nod off, no matter that he was still seated against the wall. She slipped her hand out of his and stood, leaving him to look up at her through bleary eyes. She moved to pull the blankets out of their satchels and began to spread them out in the sea of loose hay. After blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes Bae stood to join her, grabbing the corners opposite from her and pulling the blankets taut.

"If we sleep between them it might lessen the scratchiness," he suggested and she nodded in agreement. They settled down between the covers and he reached a hand up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "See? This isn't so bad. I think it might actually be better than the cave."

"The smell is divine," she said with a giggle.

"Some day, dear Emma, we'll have our own space. I promise you that."

"With a real bed?"

"A real bed, and actual lamps instead of crude torches. And a settee that will be used for seating, as it was intended."

She smirked and gave his shoulder a small shove before drawing closer to him once again. "Perhaps a small yard, a rose garden... a swing in which to sit on the porch."

"You'll have an entire castle some day, I think small yard may be an understatement."

She frowned. "Not for some time, though. Perhaps we can have our own space for a bit. I've no need for a castle - though having someone to prepare food is a nice touch."

He chuckled. "Princesses have no need for cooking lessons, I suppose."

"Oh, no, princesses do indeed receive cooking lessons. I've been trained in all sorts of things. It's just that in the cooking lessons, I've failed. After the second time I set fire to cook's favorite dish cloth, they decided it was one of my more negotiable skills."

"It was abandoned in lieu of swordfighting, then, I presume."

"Swordfighting, archery, geography, mathematics - even my otherwise weakest skills seemed strong in comparison to my cooking."

"Well then perhaps we'll have to make some sort of arrangement when it comes to the cooking. Or eat stews every night, I can prepare those."

She laughed. "Under the threat of stew for eternity, perhaps I could find the motivation to resume my cooking lessons." She shook her head, burrowing deeper beneath the covers. "It will be a while before that opportunity presents itself, though. For now..."

"We should rest up so we can continue our journey?"

"Mm."

* * *

They'd been sharing a sleeping space for a few weeks now, but it was proving to be a bit different sharing a bed as a couple. An arm around her - always - as they abandoned the notion of sleeping back to back. Various limbs strewn this way and that, no longer any need for each to keep to their own space. The rest... they were still working out.

Two nights ago he'd given her a simple kiss and settled into sleep. The night prior, they'd walked to the point of exhaustion, and it was amazing they'd kept their eyes open long enough to make it under the blankets. But tonight the shelter proved a bit more formidable, the hayloft closer to a bed than the ground or even the padded floor of the cave had been.

Conversation faded out into a kiss goodnight - which led into a second, then a third. For perhaps the first time since they'd found themselves in love, they had a moment to catch their breath and focus on nothing but each other. He'd taken to peppering her face with kisses, and she found her hands wandering lower - eventually playing at the waistband of his trousers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey," he said, catching her wrists and moving them northward, pulling them close and pressing kisses to her knuckles.

Immediately she looked down, ducking her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just thought - I mean we're married and so..." She trailed off, finally lifting her eyes to his, feelings of hurt and rejection scattered across her face. "Don't you want to?" she asked, voice small.

"Of course I want to - _of course_," he replied, letting a throaty chuckle escape. "It's just - you're a _princess_, Emma. You deserve so much better than this... the barn, and the hay, and - and the -."

"I don't mind," she said, interrupting him.

Still he shook his head. "I need to do right by you. That can't be a stolen hayloft."

She moved to object again, but the moment had passed. She sighed in frustration. "I don't care about being a princess, Bae. I just want to be your wife."

"You'll be both," he said, pressing a far-too-chaste kiss to her temple. "We'll get this whole mess sorted and figure it all out. I promise you that."

Emma pushed out another frustrated sigh, and Bae pulled her close once again. Reaching up to brush her hair off of her face, he kissed her. "I swear to you, Emma, I'll do everything I can to give you the life you deserve. I don't know how I've been so fortunate to find another chance at family, at happiness… but I won't squander it. You're my family now."

She didn't reply - instead curling into his side and letting her eyes fall closed. Just days prior, all she could have asked for in life were for her affections to be returned - now they were, and in this moment, that would be enough. The deep and even breathing of her husband served as a lullaby to soothe her into sleep, a night for once unbroken by the fears of the past, but instead filled with dreams of the future.

* * *

"Emma," came the whisper, and she squinted against the morning sunlight to find Bae standing over her, finger to his lips. "The farmer's downstairs. If we move quickly, we can get out while he's still mucking the horse's stall."

Groggy, she furrowed her brow but moved to stand. She'd no sooner stepped off of the blanket to stretch out than Bae had rolled it up, stuffing it into the satchel and motioning her towards the ladder. He descended first, furtive glances towards the horse stalls. Then he stood guard at the bottom to be sure that Emma, in her sleepiness, made it down without tripping.

He needn't have worried - she was awake now. Arising to danger had a way of doing that. She hopped off the last rung and started for the door, Bae tightly at her heels.

But as they reached the barn door, their steps were halted by the sound of the farmer clearing his throat - loudly. With one hand on the door's wooden crossbeam, Emma chanced a glance back. The farmer stood, a pitchfork in his hand and a cross between a smile and a smirk on his face. Looking between the pair, he addressed them -

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **To my guest reviewers, thank you! Your words are kind, and I so appreciate them! And SassySwan, your review made me crack up. I see we read with the same brain train ;)

To those who had been worried I'd abandoned the story - nope! I am stubborn and it will be finished one way or another! There is some possibility it may get shortened, depending on the interest level (the outline calls for it to be somewhat of an epic at the rate I'm going, yikes!) and it will be slow going, but I will see it through to a conclusion!

(Does it help if I beg forgiveness for the slow rate of updates by providing the excuse that I am plugging away at a plot bunny that took hold some time and won't let go? That one will likely end up complete before I start publishing it, since the plot is a little more intricate and I don't want to screw it up! I'm about 60k in, so it's well underway...)

Anyways. Our dear children are continuing their runaway adventure... Perhaps we shall see what sort of scrape they've gotten themselves into this time!

-DSB

* * *

_"Leaving without saying goodbye?"_

The duo froze, looking back in the direction the voice had come from. There they found a man, perhaps twice their age, dressed in a dingy tunic. His skin was weathered, with chapped cheeks and calloused hands, and his hair fell somewhere between windswept and unkempt. Next to him stood a younger man, perhaps a few years their junior, paused in his duties to observe the spectacle he was sure was about to unfold.

"I just-"

"We-"

The pair started &amp; stopped their excuses in tandem, moving to meet each others' gazes with mounting panic in their eyes.

Under silent agreement, Bae began offering an excuse. "We're so sorry sir, we've been traveling to visit my uncle - he's fallen ill - we should have arrived by nightfall yesterday but I believe we took a wrong turn back at Meadowton and-"

"Having no money for an inn, you slept in my hayloft?"

"Indeed," Bae said, bowing his head in shame. "Please accept my apologies."

The man stared him down for a long moment, leaving Bae to wonder what sort of fate may befall them. Slowly, slowly, he inched in front of Emma, hoping to protect her from any bout of temper the man might burst into. He would have told her to run if he'd thought it might do any good. Instead, he found that her hand had worked its way into his - as if she could read his mind - and she clung to it in a manner that stated her solidarity on the issue. As the farmer observed the duo, an amused smile slowly crept onto his face. It started near the eyes, creeping down until one side of his mouth turned up to indicate that he harbored no ill will. "You must be quite hungry, then," he addressed them, and the response was so unexpected it took a moment for either of them to speak.

"We're all right, sir," Emma said as she gathered her wits about her. "And we're terribly sorry for disturbing your property."

"No harm done," the man said. "So long as there's hay still for the cows, of course."

"Of course," she replied with a small smile, taking a step forward to stand next to her husband and shooting a glance his direction. "We really should be going, though."

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay for breakfast?" the farmer tried again. "My wife will have ham and eggs ready as soon as the boy and I finish milking the cows. I'm sure she'd be more than happy for some company... we rarely get visitors round these parts."

Emma looked again to Bae, who gave a small shrug. They didn't need a discussion to know that the offer of a hot meal was more than tempting to both. Taking the shrug as deference, Emma swallowed her reluctance and put her trust in the stranger. She wasn't sure whether it was his easygoing demeanor, her hunger, or Bae's laid-back attitude rubbing off on her, but having breakfast with new friends sounded like a welcome change of pace. "Are you certain it's all right?" Emma asked him. "We don't want to be an imposition."

"Nonsense," the farmer replied. "Jake'll just run in and let his momma know to set the table for five instead of three."

The youngster nodded, scampering off towards the farmhouse and leaving his father to continue to acquaint himself with the young duo. "Name's Harold," he said, giving a nod towards Emma before stepping forward and extending his hand to shake Bae's. "Ruth," she said, hoping Bae would catch on and not call attention to the falsity. "And this is my husband-"

"-John," he replied, grasping Harold's hand and causing Emma to shoot him a quick sidelong glance. "Thanks for your kindness. We'd be delighted."

* * *

Harold glanced over his shoulder, the young stowaways ambling behind him as he marched on towards the farmhouse. He hid his smile as he watched at the duo - hands clamped together, walking so closely that their shoulders bumped with each step they took. They had their heads together, whispering - probably trying to decide whether to continue following him or make a break for it while they had the chance.

He found them rather endearing - something about their interplay resonating with him, reminiscent of his own time as a newlywed. Perhaps it was the way the boy - whatever his name _actually_ was - seemed determined to protect his young bride, or how she stood staunchly at his side, never flinching as they faced down a situation that could have been disastrous. The urchins didn't have the look of someone accustomed to poverty - despite the soil and wear, their clothes had once been fine. But their waif-like appearances told him that it had been a while since they'd been removed from that luxury. That, and the expressions on their faces when he'd offered them a hot meal - their hunger far outweighing their common sense as they followed a stranger into his home.

Hannah would have a field day with these two.

* * *

Emma had two fears as she approached breakfast with the kind strangers. The first, of course, was that their kindness was a ruse, and they meant some manner of harm towards her or Bae. For all she knew, they could have been operatives for Cora - assigned to lure them in with a meal and poison them or have them flat out brutally murdered. But Bae seemed unphased, and that was good enough for her - _had_ to be good enough for her - as she tried to follow his lead in this unfamiliar life of constant adaptation. She trusted him, he seemed to trust them - so that would do. It freed her up to mull over her second worry: that she'd embarrass them both by shoveling food into her face like a starved child.

That worry, too, seemed to be unfounded. A month or more of subsisting on a single meal a day must have shrunken her stomach, and even the mouthwatering ham steaks that Hannah had fried up couldn't induce her to overeat.

Harold's wife was a pleasant woman; tall and wiry with dark hair that reached nearly to her waist. Her skirt was simple; her tunic plain but clean. She seemed to relish the company, encouraging Emma and Bae to eat up just as she did her own son. She'd made entirely too much food - as if Jake had told her they'd be having ten for breakfast instead of five - but seemed less bothered by the waste than the idea that one of the young folk hadn't eaten their fill.

"The two of you," she said, gesturing at Emma &amp; Bae with her fork, "look as if you haven't seen a decent meal in days. And I know Jakey works up an appetite helping his father in the morning."

"I haven't finished my chores yet, Mama," he protested, as if that were an explanation for why he'd eaten 'only' three pieces of meat. "Only got as far as mucking the cow stall before we got interrupted. I'll feed the hogs once we finish here."

"Perhaps you'll manage to stay out of the pen this time," Hannah said, shooting an amused glance over at her son.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Are you ever gonna let me live that down?"

Hannah grinned. "Not planning on it."

"Y'know Hannah," Harold piped up, mischief brewing in his eyes, "Seems rude to me to allude that incident… given that our visitors have never heard the story."

"Aw, do we have to do this?" Jake asked, making a sour face towards his father.

"Your father's right, you know. It is quite rude."

"C'mon, Mama. I'm sure they don't care."

"You know, I am rather curious, now that you mention it," Emma declared, Bae nodding enthusiastically.

"See Jakey, we can't leave them in the dark!" Hannah said, preparing to launch into the story even as Jake crossed his arms tightly over his chest and sunk down in his chair. "First, you need to understand that Jake and Harold have a difference of opinion on the farm work. Jake wants it done easily… Harold wants it done right."

"'Right' always involves three times as many steps," Jake protested.

"And didn't you learn your lesson with the hogs?!" Harold exclaimed, shaking his head.

Hannah shook her head at father and son, turning to Emma &amp; Bae as she continued. "Though I've never understood his reasons, he feels strongly that the hogs should be watered, straw laid in their trough, and slop layered on top… precisely in that order. Which means going into the pen to do the water and straw, coming back 'round to the gate to get out, coming up to the house to get the slop, then going back 'round to the gate again with the slop bucket. Jake takes some sort of offense to the back-and-forth - been complaining about it as long as Harold's had him helping with the hogs."

"I just don't see why we can't carry the slop with us in the first place!"

"So a couple of months back, Harold left early for an errand and left our son in charge of morning chores. They've done them together a thousand times, and at fourteen he should be more than capable of feeding and watering a few farm animals - Harold had even taken care of the mucking, you know? But Jakey here decided that, left to his own devices, he wanted to shortcut the process - thought he'd make his life easier. So he comes up to the house and grabs the slop bucket and gets to the point in the fence where the trough is and - instead of going 'round to the gate - decides he'll just go over.

"Now you can't climb the fence with boots on - not enough space between the rails. So my boy here gets to the spot in the fence and sets the slop bucket down, and then - bright boy that he is! - slides his feet out of his work boots. So he clambers up the first couple of rails, grabs the slop bucket, and sets it on top of the fence. What the boy doesn't know is that I'm his Mama - I knew from the look in his eye when he picked up the slop that he was up to some sort of mischief. So here's me, watching from the kitchen window, as this boy perches atop the fence and lifts the bucket up - up - and tilts it over to dump the slop into the trough.

"And dump it he did - the slop - the bucket - and then himself, right over the fence. Caught his shoulder on the trough, landed slap down in the pigs' pen, brought the trough over on top of himself to boot. So now, instead of taking the fifteen extra steps to go round by the gate, the boy is covered in mud, covered in slop, and here's three hogs trying to eat his face off."

"Did you have to go rescue him?" Emma asked with a laugh.

Hannah shot her a look as Harold stifled a laugh at the question. "You kiddin' me? By the time he'd drug himself up out of the mud pit, gone round to the gate - you notice he's usin' the gate now, learned his lesson, see - and come up towards the porch, I'm doubled over laughin' at him. Sure, I've grabbed a towel - I don't want the boy to freeze between the creek and home, and you know he was headed to the creek to wash up - but seems the punishment's its own reward. Jake was no worse for the wear and he's gone and learned a lot more respect for doing things the way his father told him."

"It's true," Jake said sullenly.

"Sounds like the time I got it in my head I should help with the sheep's feed," Bae said with a chuckle.

Emma raised an eyebrow, a twinkle brimming in her eye. She planted her elbows on the table and grinned in the direction of her husband. "Now this I _have_ to hear."

"Same kind of start, my Papa had gone into town - told me once he got back we'd feed and water the sheep. But even at 8, I knew enough to know when feeding time had come and gone - and even if I hadn't, the bleating would have reminded me. I knew quite well that I couldn't take those sheep out to pasture myself, but I thought maybe I could give them a little water, just a handful of feed to tide them over.

"So I pop open the gate - Papa had told me that was no task for a boy, but I just knew I could scoot through real quick and latch it behind me. Unluckily for me, the hungry sheep disagreed - and one of them got it into his head to bolt out into the pasture. So I tossed myself over on him, grabbed ahold of his neck - but that didn't stop the old guy, oh no, just kept running on down the road."

Emma burst out laughing, drawing smiles from Harold &amp; Hannah. "Now there's a sight I'd love to see - forget horseback riding lessons! It's sheep instead!"

"I don't recommend it," Bae said with a laugh. "To my great fortune, this happened just as Papa was coming back from market. He had an old war injury that had never healed right, so he walked with a walking stick - and wouldn't you know as that sheep went to bolt past him he just stuck the stick out, calm as could be, and clocked the poor thing in the neck. The sheep stopped short and I tumbled off. Of course Papa came straight over and scooped me up, the best he could anyways - 'Are you hurt son?' I insisted I was fine - nevermind my scraped elbow and bruised knee, I'd bruised _my pride_ and that was far worse.

"I'd barely scrambled to my feet when I learned canes can smack little boys' backsides just as well as they can clothesline sheep. 'You're never to do that again, my boy,' my Papa started in, and _my_ did I think I was in for a lecture about opening the pen gate. But no, it was, 'Just let the sheep go next time. They're replaceable. You're not.'" He shook his head, the levity suddenly sucked out of the tale. "It was just me and Papa, see, and he'd made me the center of his world."

"All parents do, son," Herald piped up with a kind smile, even as he reached over to ruffle Jake's hair.

"Some take it too far," Bae replied, and Emma wondered if their new friends could pick up on the bitterness tinting his voice.

Though Jake seemed oblivious, the look his parents exchanged told her that they had. Harold only let a beat go by before he launched into his own tale of a farm incident, and by meal's end, the group had an easy rapport.

As they finished eating, Jake excused himself to compete the morning's chores, leaving the adults to recline at the table. Upon his exit, Harold turned to Bae. "So you're off to visit your cousin, you say? He's fallen ill?"

"Quite."

"Took the left at the fork at Meadsfield. How unfortunate. Happens to the best of us."

"Well, you see sir, it was growing dim and-"

"This was three days prior, yes?"

Bae exchanged a glance with Emma. "No, sir, just last night."

Exchanging a glance with his own wife - who slid her hand across her mouth to hide her giggles - he raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. "That's quite a feat, son. Meadsfield is three days' hike from here - in the best of conditions. Now if you'd said Meadowton -"

"That's it!" Emma exclaimed. "Bae's just terrible with names."

"And relations, too, it seems."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Earlier it was the uncle who had fallen ill. Now it's the cousin?"

"Well his cousin lives with his uncle, see, his mother's brother -"

By this time Hannah's hand had become useless, giggles escaping as Emma fumbled through an explanation for the inconsistency.

"Listen up, my dears. The first thing you lovebirds need is to get your stories straight. Details? They're important."

"Yes, sir."

"And for goodness sakes, tell each other your false names before you need to use them. The looks on your faces were priceless."

The duo nodded, appropriately abashed.

"Don't suppose we can have the privilege of using your real ones?"

Exchanging a glance with Bae, Emma bit her lip. Looking back at Harold, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she replied. "I - I wish I could. There's just too much risk."

Hannah smiled gently at the duo. "Just bear it in mind for the future. There's no harm done here… we've seen our fair share of runaways."

"We're not-"

Ignoring Emma's protests, she pushed back from the table. "Better get these dishes scrubbed before everything gets caked on. Ruth, dear, could I trouble you to help?"

"Certainly," Emma said, offering a slight nod as she too stood. Their hostess had headed into the kitchen, and Emma stacked the plates and piled the silver atop them before following her through the doorway.

There she found Hannah pumping a counter-mounted cistern into a basin that sat recessed into the kitchen counter. "My anniversary present last year," she said, grinning at Emma over her shoulder. "Sure beats going to the well several times a day." Emma returned her smile, hoping her bewilderment wasn't too evident. She'd never paid too much attention to how the dishwater made it to the sink at her parents' castle - the servants handled that - and the cottage had running water, thanks to her father-in-law's magic. Hannah's voice jolted her out of her thoughts. "If you could just scrape the scraps into that pail, Jake'll run it out to the hogs in a bit."

Emma nodded again, setting the stack on the counter and lifting the top plate from the stack. Before she had a chance to respond, Hannah was firing another question her way. "The two of you been married long?"

"Not very," Emma replied, the vague response satisfying all possible answers to the question.

"I see," Hannah said, a hint of motherly amusement evident in her voice. Her demeanor reminded Emma of her own mother, when Snow knew she'd done something and wanted to give her the chance to come clean on her own. "And whose parents objected?"

"It wasn't like that at all," Emma replied, passing the plate across the counter and beginning to scrape a second.

Hannah let out a soft hmm, sounding as if she didn't for a moment believe the young princess. "My Harold was the son of a local plowman. We met at the market - he was the first boy to ever make me laugh. But my father wouldn't hear of me marrying below my station. Took nearly a year to orchestrate our escape. We were married by the first officiant we could bribe on the roadside, walked until we found a farmer willing to give him work. I joined him in the fields every day - that's what marriage is, you know? - until Jakey arrived. We held him off for three years, but all marriages are bound to bear fruit sooner or later."

It was Emma's turn to let out a commiserate hum, thinking of Alex and the heir whose arrival loomed ever closer. Before she could wander any further down that rabbit trail, Hannah continued. "My father passed when Jake was but a few months old. I returned home for the funeral - without Herald but with the evidence of our marriage in my arms. It broke my mother to have me so far away for so long. She begged me to bring my family back home, but by then we'd built a life here... Harold and I were happy and my duty was to my own family." She paused, scrubbing furiously at a stubborn spot on one of the plates. "Can't say I regret my decision, but if I had it to do again, I might give my parents the choice of accepting him or losing me. I'd sooner see Jake in a match I don't approve of than to never see him at all."

She sent Emma a bittersweet smile. "I don't need you to tell me all your problems, dear, but know that running isn't always the answer. That boy looks as if he'd follow you to the ends of the earth. Just make sure you know what you're giving up to stay there."

* * *

"She's got fire, your Ruthie," Harold said, nodding after Emma as she left the room.

Bae grinned. "She does."

"Hannah, too. Plus she's the only girl who ever laughed at my jokes."

Bae smiled, a moment passing before his expression fell and he continued. "I didn't mean to fall for her. I was just meant to protect her, keep her safe... and somehow now here we are."

"It's a two way street," the elder man said with a smile. "She looks to be as smitten with you as you are with her. Must've been one heck of a protector."

Bae shrugged. "I don't know about that."

"You've gotten her safely this far, my boy. Whatever the two of you are running from - don't give me that look now, I know a pair of runaways when I sees em - just remember that when you married her, you took on that protection for life. Now if she's as much like my Hannah as I think she is, she'll stand shoulder to shoulder with you and you'll never face things alone. But you still gotta remember why you married her, gotta remember that when it gets tough, life with her is the choice you made. And it's gonna get tough, son - it always does. But just hang onto her and you'll be all right."

"I've no intention to do any differently," Bae replied, choosing his next words carefully. "I've lived enough life to know the fortune that's fallen my way - to be loved, to have someone choose me and promise to stay. Eh- Ruth, I mean, my role hasn't changed with her, just my motivation. I made my promises some time ago and I've every intention of standing up to them."

Harold nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rising, he motioned to Bae. "C'mon now, let's see what we can rustle up for the two of you to take along - can't let my young lovebirds perish of starvation, now can we?" Bae moved to protest, but Harold waved him off. "The protectin's easier done with a full belly."

"You've shown us so much kindness already-"

Walking towards a door, he dismissed the objections again. "And you'll pass it along when you're able. Not much sense in letting your bride starve, now is there."

Bae followed him, swayed by his argument. He found that behind the door was a long set of steps, eventually leading down into a root cellar. Once they made it to the bottom, Harold handed him a few vegetables - a turnip, a couple of parsnips, a few carrots - before heading into the corner to grab a small half-filled sack into which Bae saw him tuck a paper-wrapped parcel that he presumed to be a chunk of cheese. "It's not much," Harold said, extending the sack towards him, "But it'll buy you a few days without starvation."

Bae shook his head and tried to hand the vegetables back over. "You're so kind, but truly I can't accept it. These are your family's winter stores!"

Shaking his head once again, Harold pressed the vegetables back into Bae's hands as he added the parcel. "Hannah always makes me store enough to feed a small army. We could feed the two of you for the next month and not make a dent." Seeing Bae's continued hesitance, he gave him a gentle shove towards the door. "It's only a day or two worth. It does my heart good to know you won't starve."

* * *

It wasn't long after that the younger couple took their leave, Hannah pulling Emma into a tight hug and whispering something to her that elicited a somber nod. Bae shook Harold's hand, then Hannah's; Harold cracking a joke about giving his greetings to Bae's second cousin and sending him a conspiratorial wink as Hannah dissolved into giggles.

"You take care of her, you hear?" Harold hollered after the duo as they started down the path near the road.

The young couple turned back, and even as Bae nodded, Emma yelled back, "We'll take care of each other!"

Emma and Bae clambered down the slight hillside that buffered the farmland from the road, the grins of the older couple remaining on their faces until they'd disappeared from sight. Bae found that Emma had grabbed his hand at some point - even as he was surprised to find that it had become such a commonplace occurrence that he hadn't even noticed when it happened. Their arms swung idly between them as they resumed their trek south, well rested and with full bellies for the first time in over a month.

Once they were a safe distance from the farmhouse, Emma resumed her characteristic chatter. "John?" she asked, sending an inquisitive look his way. "Where'd that come from?"

"I could ask the same about Ruth!"

"Grandmother's name. Pretty sure it's what Daddy would've named me if Mama hadn't decided all on her own. Yours a family name too?"

"In a manner of speaking," Bae said. "He was one of my brothers in London."

Emma looked at him inquisitively, raising an eyebrow. "You had brothers in London?"

"For a few weeks. A family caught me stealing food and took me in."

"Didn't last."

He shrugged. "Could've," he replied, sorrow lining his voice. "It was the second chance I needed after everything with my Papa. But The Shadow came from Neverland to take the boys, and I wouldn't see magic destroy another family. I went instead." He glanced over at Emma to see that she had gotten the look on her face that she always wore when he shared another piece of the past. "Don't start in on that now. What's done is done, and it's brought me here to you, so it can't be all bad, now can it."

"Suppose not," Emma said, a bit sullen at being cut off at the pass.

"So tell me about this Grandmother. Was she the doting type?"

It was Emma's turn to shrug. "Don't know, never met her. Guessing she would've been, to hear my father speak. She sacrificed herself so my parents could be together - true love and all."

"See! It's not just me!"

"I'd prefer if it's no longer you. Sacrifices aren't worth it if it means not having you here. My happiness is tied up in yours, now, see? So if you won't believe you deserve it on your own accord, believe in it for me."

He merely grunted in return - less out of agreement and more because he'd never win the argument. Harold was right, she had fire - a trait that was a disadvantage only in the rare instances he dared disagree with her. Luckily for both of them, it was much more common that their viewpoints were as much in sync as their steps, marching on towards Lincolnshire and their future.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N** \- Thank you for the reviews! It motivates me to write, so much - you have no idea!

Lots of guest questions/comments to address - bear with me for a sec (or just scroll down for the story.)

Baby Henry? I adore that kid, so it wouldn't surprise me to see him show up… after, um, certain other things happen…

Re: an Epic - I really don't know why this story is so long! It has a mind of its own. There's a lot to get through yet, and it covers a pretty significant period of time. If I have readers willing to wander along at the current pace, then I'm happy to let our young lovers wander through their story. The original outline called for 33 chapters but I can't imagine I'll get through it that quickly. (Where is that outline, anyways?)

Re: London - yes, Emma knows. Bae mentions it ever so briefly in chapter 12 - falling through the portal, then going to Neverland by way of London. It's in the "Morraine discussion," which for Emma was really a watershed moment - during which she hung on his every word, so even that small mention made quite an impression. And she had a LOT of time in that cave during which to churn over what he'd been through - so it stuck with her.

Happy to answer anything else. As always, appreciate your feedback - it motivates me to work and gets the next chapter up faster!

-DSB

* * *

Midday on the fifth day of their trek, Bae found himself contemplating the source of their next meal when Emma's stomach let out a most unladylike noise.

"Oops," she said with a giggle, blushing.

"It's just as well that I didn't fall in love with you for your ladylike ways."

She wheeled on him, grinning. "Say that again!"

He looked at her oddly. "...that you're not ladylike?"

"No silly! The other part."

Tilting his head, he ran the sentence back through his mind. "Ohhh," he replied, smiling. "The part where I fell in love with you?"

She beamed. "Yes, that's the part! I just wanted to be certain I wasn't dreaming."

"I'm not sure that either of us could sleep through that most undignified noise, my dear," he replied cheekily, earning a shove to his shoulder and a pout from his bride. "Come now, don't be cross," he said, fingers lifting her chin until she made eye contact and kissing the tip of her nose. "You're not dreaming. I did indeed fall in love with my own wife."

She beamed again, and he found himself still getting used to her unbridled happiness. The weeks of sulking in the cave made sense now that he understood her feelings, but this was still a side to Emma he'd not often had the opportunity to witness. She was a funny girl, this one, and he suspected years in he'd still be piecing together how she worked.

"Perhaps we could take this path into the town," he said, gesturing as they came to an intersection in the roads. "Judging by the merchants passing by, there's a market down the way."

"It seems risky," she replied, her brow furrowing in concern.

"We're four days' journey from where we started, can't imagine Cora's lurking around the bend."

"Mmm.. I believe we're actually in day five," she corrected him.

"Is it? They've all rather blended together. We should be drawing near to the end of the realm, then. Surely this is secluded enough to stop off for a bite to eat."

"I suppose," she conceded, making the turn with him to walk the road to the town. "But Bae, we've no money left. How will we buy anything there?"

"I just need you to trust me," he replied.

"I _do_ trust you."

"Good. Then follow my lead," he told her, flashing a mischievous grin.

It was less than a mile to the market, stalls and vendors peppering the square at the center of the small town. The duo surveyed the wares, and Bae pulled Emma off to the side. "Do you see the woman with the bread?" he asked her in a hushed tone. "Over on the far side, near that barn."

"Yes," she replied, skepticism evident in her voice as she undoubtedly wondered what he was plotting.

"Good. I need you to approach her table, make conversation with her. Pay me no mind when you see me - just keep her engaged until I've departed. Then make your excuses and meet me around the far side of the barn. All right?"

"Okay," she replied, her uncertain voice holding evidence that she was still suspicious of his plan.

"You go on ahead of me," he told her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'll be right behind you."

She casually browsed a few of the booths on her way to the stall of the woman with the bread - displayed along with other assorted pastries and sweets on the table in front of her. A full rack sat behind her, slated for replenishment as she sold what she'd put out. Emma struck up a friendly conversation with the woman, inquiring about the varieties of bread she had to offer and the techniques she employed in keeping the texture of the baked goods light and fluffy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bae sneak around the back of the stall - and it was all she could do to will herself to keep her eyes down on the table. As fortune would have it, she was able to let out a genuine laugh about her lack of skill in the kitchen at that moment, keeping herself engaged in the conversation with the merchant.

"Which loaf would you like to purchase?" the woman asked finally.

"Oh, I need to find my father for that - he holds the pursestrings," Emma replied, a blush creeping over her cheeks. She hoped it passed for shyness or embarrassment rather than a telltale sign of a lie. As the woman began to raise her eyebrow, she began to negotiate her exit. Looking around, she exclaimed, "Where is he, anyways? Daddy?" Turning back to the woman, she huffed as if put out before telling her, "I think he's left me at the market again! That's the second time this month! DADDY!" she hollered. Then she ran out between the booths, as if in search of her father even as she zigzagged a path towards the barn.

There she found Bae waiting. As she came around the side, he couldn't help but burst into laughter. "My, Emma, you never told me you'd trained to be an actress!"

"I hadn't! I fear I panicked a bit there - I hope I didn't draw too much attention to myself."

"None that can't be averted with a quick exit - come on," he replied, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the woods opposite the barn. "We'll navigate through these woods until we return to the main road."

"Whatever was that about, anyways," she asked him, after they'd obtained a safe distance from the market.

He opened the satchel to pull out a loaf of bread, slightly dented from its journey but otherwise in entirely edible condition. He held it out to her, smiling shyly. "Getting us something to eat."

"Baelfire!" she said, gasping. "Did you steal this from that woman?"

"It was that or starve to death," he replied. "Besides, bread is incredibly inexpensive to make. At the prices she was charging, she won't even notice one little loaf missing."

She scowled at him. "We could have paid for it. My parents are royalty!"

"And how exactly do you intend on doing that?" he asked as he ripped a piece off and passed it over to her. "Calling the royal guard and alerting them to our location?"

"I suppose not," she conceded, grudgingly taking the hunk of bread and gnawing on the edge. "And I _am_ hungry."

"I couldn't let you starve," he defended, pulling off his own corner of the loaf before stowing it back in their bag.

"Where did you learn that trick?" she asked, her anger fading as her stomach settled.

"London," he replied, giving a quick shrug of his shoulder. "I didn't have many options. When you get desperate, you do what you have to."

"Oh, Bae," she replied, frowning as she did every time she was reminded of the hardships he'd endured in life. "I hate that you went through that."

"We're not much better off now, my dear," he replied.

"I disagree completely... we've got each other," she offered, and at that he smiled.

"We do indeed."

* * *

"What do you think about the space under that pine?"

Nearly a week into the trek, they'd learned that once dusk approached, it was wise to keep an eye out for a place to rest their heads. This particular evening, the last rays of the sun hasn't even dipped below the horizon when Emma spied a towering pine, lower branches dusting softly on the ground. There was a small gap around one side - once widened, it revealed an alcove, tucked away from prying eyes and the winds of the forest. They'd gotten far enough south that the air was far less bitter, but still - a windbreak would always be a welcome addition.

Bent nearly in half, they snapped the blanket open and laid it across the fallen needles in a perfectly practiced rhythm. The gaps in the lowest branches allowed them just enough space to sit cross-legged on the blanket, digging through satchels in search of dinner.

"What's left?" Emma asked, and Bae tossed her the remnants of the bag they'd received several days prior.

"The last of the nuts from Harold. A few of the berries we picked this afternoon. Enough to tide us over for tonight, but-"

"Tomorrow it's to market again?"

"Indeed."

Emma pulled a face. "I don't like it, Bae. It's too risky."

"I'm not a fan either, Emma, but we can't just starve to death out here. Even if we were to turn around and go home-"

"We're not going home," she said tersely.

"I didn't say we _should_. I was going to say, even _if_ we were to do that, we'd still have to feed ourselves for the next week while we made it back. We'll need to come up with a true plan once we reach Lincolnshire, but for tomorrow..."

"Okay," she said with a sigh. "Just for tomorrow. We should be near to Lincolnshire anyway."

He let out an "mm" of agreement, munching on the bits of food that Emma had handed back from the sack. They finished in silence, Bae rolling his satchel under his head and laying down, Emma joining him and covering them with the second blanket.

"It's early this evening," she said, and he nodded.

"Sun is rising ever earlier, my dear, may as well take advantage of the sleep while we can get it." He let out a yawn, rudely interrupted as his bride captured him in a kiss.

"Surely you're not _that_ tired," she whispered against his lips, leaning into him as she deepened the kiss.

He pulled back. "Emma, please-"

She rolled away with a huff. "Please what."

"Don't make me deny you. I'd give you anything - you know that. But this - it's not - I can't -" He trailed off, drawing in a breath to steady himself. "I haven't the will to deny you again, but this isn't right. You _know_ that. Once we get to Lincolnshire, once we get settled… we can make this a real marriage, the one you deserve."

She seemed to soften at this, rolling back to meet his gaze. "I have your word?"

"My word - and everything I have, dear heart, you know that."

The answer must have satisfied her, as she snuggled into the crook of his neck and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder. "You infuriate me, Baelfire. And yet -" she pushed out a sigh, warm breath tickling at his throat - "Somehow I manage to love you all the more for it." Another pause and then, "I don't deserve your honor, but thank you for honoring me nonetheless."

He scoffed. "Of course you do. You're a prin-"

She silenced him, a finger over his lips as she shook her head. "I'm your wife."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as she snuggled against him once more, inexplicably comforted enough by his embrace to feel safe miles and miles from home in the shelter of a pine tree's boughs. How and why, he'd never puzzle out, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He'd do right by her, as his wife - as a princess - and as the only person in centuries who had seen him as worthy of their love.

* * *

"Same as last time," he told her, "Just engage the merchant until I'm out of sight. Needing to get your father for the funds was a great idea, except-"

"Except the part where I attracted attention by hollering as I ran away?" she said, shooting him a self-deprecating grin.

"Yes," he said, suppressing his own smile so as not to mock her. "The idea is to slip in and out without anyone noticing."

"I'll try to do better," she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "I don't want to be responsible for you getting caught."

"It wouldn't be a good situation," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm sure your parents could get us out of it, but..."

"Again, we'd end up going home."

"And we don't want that."

"No... we don't. Not right now, not until we know Cora is no longer a threat."

They'd walked a couple more hours until the ruts in a crossing road indicated a tiny town. Following it, they were not disappointed. They identified a mark - bread again, it was cheap enough to ease their guilt and filling enough to ease their hunger - and stepped out of sight as Bae gave his wife a pep talk. "It won't be forever, my dear. We'll do better once we're settled. I don't know how, but - you have my word."

* * *

"Should be nearing Lincolnshire," Emma said, popping the last morsel of her bread into her mouth. The loaf had lasted barely 24 hours this time… but it had been enough. "Just down the road… I remember the bend at the big oak tree we passed a while back. Of course, it always seems closer in a carriage."

Bae chuckled. "Indeed."

Hearing the telltale babbling of a brook, they'd taken a moment to stray off the main path in search of a sip of water. They'd found the brook - and the water - but in the process, they'd lost the road. Emma had found a fallen tree branch and forged ahead, beating back branches and brush alike. Bae trailed steps behind her, an eye out for anything edible - as always.

They could see the forest density fade away in the distance and plunged ahead, eager to locate the road once more. But as they reached the edge of the clearing, Bae stopped short.

"Emma, wait," he hissed, catching her elbow and causing her to nearly tumble backwards into him. "There's a house there!"

"Huh," she replied, catching her footing as she looked where he was pointing. Staring for a moment, she continued. "It appears unoccupied."

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon, the family is likely out somewhere."

"No, Bae, _look_. The door is hanging crooked on its hinges and the corner of the porch looks to be collapsing."

He drew back, frowning at her. "So the fact that the family is not wealthy means they cannot go out?"

"No, Bae," she repeated, turning to look at him, "I don't think there IS a family. It looks utterly abandoned."

He stood silent for a moment, studying the house at length before slowly nodding. "It does."

They locked eyes, conversing silently before both turning back to look at the house. "Should we wait a bit, see if someone returns, or...?" Emma asked, catching his eye once again.

"We could investigate. Perhaps claim a lost dog if someone comes out?"

"Okay," she agreed, nodding as she contemplated. "Let's start by walking around the back side."

She led the way, and Bae kept up the ruse by peering into the woods and underbrush surrounding the cabin as she attempted to surreptitiously peek into the windows. By the time they'd circled the entire structure, Emma was certain the house was indeed abandoned, and she tried her hand at the front door.

"Emma!" Bae hissed, "What are you doing?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps the pup wandered in search of shelter."

He sent her a cross look. She promptly ignored it as she stepped through the door and into the structure. Despite his misgivings, he followed and together they took in their surroundings. The cabin, as they'd eventually come to call it, was little more than a one-room shack. In the corner was shoved a crudely constructed bed, covered in a thin, limp mattress with straw poking out one side. The corner nearest the door housed a table, and a small fireplace was built into the opposite wall. The simple chairs that sat astride the table were the only other furniture in the dwelling, and aside from a heavy pot and a skillet hanging by the fireplace, there were no other belongings inside.

"Empty," Bae said, shaking his head. Squinting at Emma, he continued. "What were you looking for, anyways?"

She grinned. "This."

"What?"

"The cabin needs occupants… and we need a home." She shrugged, as if the answer were as simple as that.

"Emma, we can't just-". He faltered, sputtering, as he tried to argue but failed to come up with the words.

"Can't just what? Take up residence in a cabin that hasn't seen people in the better part of a decade?"

"It's not _ours_," he implored, hoping to talk her out of her foolhardy mission.

"It's not _anyone's_," she shot back, and he could tell she was digging her heels in for a fight.

"Emma, come on. How do you know no one owns it? Maybe there's a landlord nearby, lets it out, simply fallen on a time with no tenants?"

Emma shot him a look. "Look at this place, Bae. Would you let it out for _your_ family?"

He sent her a half a smile. "I believe you're asking me to do just that."

"That's different," she said, rolling her eyes. "We're not rooted locals, looking to establish a homey dwelling. Rather, we're a pair of runaways looking to hide from civilization. Totally different. And this place? It's far removed from civilization. We had to get lost to find it."

He studied her, considering her argument. On one hand, it wasn't _theirs_. But on the other hand, they were in a rather desperate situation - and it didn't look as if it would harm anyone for them to stay.

Finally, he conceded. "We can stay for tonight."

She shook her head. "We stay until someone comes to kick us out - or Cora's been caught."

He frowned, not fond of arguing. "How about we stay tonight, then make an effort to find the owner? If none can be located… then we stay. Deal?" The word escaped involuntarily and he flinched - but Emma paid it no mind.

"Fine. I can agree to that." She swung her satchel off and dumped it on the table, swinging a chair around sideways and plopping down onto it. "So, dear husband…"

"Yes?"

"Now what?"

He swung his own bag onto the table, flipping back the flap and digging inside. He grabbed out the knife and held it up for display. "Now we make a plan for dinner. You want to grab firewood while I set traps?"

"I'll set them," she replied, "Your branches always seem to burn better. Less smoke." She paused, fidgeting. "And then…" she trailed off.

"Yes?"

"I - well - does this count as Lincolnshire?"

He ducked his head - should have known Emma would waste no time before starting in on that again. It was his turn to fidget, a notion that had run across his mind suddenly taking root. He locked eyes with her, grabbed her hand before he spoke. "I suppose it does." He sent her a smile, fidgeting before he pitched his plan. "But… in making this a real marriage... I feel as if we should start with a real wedding."

Emma rolled her eyes. "And invite who, the horses from the pasture across the way?"

"Of course not," Bae replied with a chuckle. "We needn't have any guests. We did that once already. But those vows we made in front of our parents... there was nothing genuine about them. If we're going to turn this sham into a real marriage, I feel like we should start with some promises made in earnest." Emma scrunched up her nose, not being one to stand on circumstance, but Bae persisted. "What do you say, my dearest princess. Will you marry me, all over again?"


	22. Chapter 22

A few hours later, traps had been set and branches gathered. In the midst of their work, they'd done their best to set up a simple ceremony. Emma had dug the candle out of her satchel and set it on the mantle above the fireplace. Around it, Bae had arranged a handful of wildflowers he'd found straggling in the yard. Once they'd both finished their tasks, she lit the candle, looking at Bae expectantly. "Ready?"

"One more thing," he said, disappearing out the front door. He reemerged seconds later, one hand hidden behind his back and a lopsided grin upon his face.

"What?" Emma asked, looking at him quizzically.

"There's a question I'm supposed to ask," he said. "I can't remember exactly, but I seem to remember something about asking if you'd be mine forever." With this he pulled his hand from behind his back, producing a circle of daisies, crudely woven together. She raised her brow, a smile creeping into her face despite herself.

"You remembered."

He shrugged. "Story had to be consistent... for the people, you know."

"That wasn't the story we went with!"

Another shrug. "But it was ever so much more endearing." He smiled at her for a moment before continuing. "You haven't answered the question, anyways."

"Of course I will," she said, tilting her head down and allowing him to perch the crown atop it. Meeting his gaze once more, her brow furrowed. "Who's going to conduct the ceremony?"

"I will, I guess."

"You can't officiate and be the groom!"

"Why not?"

"You just... can't."

He shrugged. "There's nothing to officiate. I'll just say a few things - here, like this."

She rolled her eyes as he launched into a speech, a false haughtiness about his tone. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of the straw tumbled from the mattress, the rainwater leaking through the thatch and the cows in the meadow across the way. Fortunately the legalities concerning this union have long since been dispensed with, leaving only the vows of the bride and groom as they convert this marriage from a bond formed under duress to one forged in love."

"Nice, Bae. Straw and cows, really?"

"Are you prepared to do better?"

"No."

"Then let's get on with it, shall we?"

Emma nodded, the sarcasm of the situation fading away as she stared at her husband - or husband-to-be, whichever was more accurate in the moment. She picked up his hands, turning them over and studying them. Tracing their creases with her thumbs, she gathered her thoughts about her. "Bae, I, um..." she finally began, letting out a shaky breath. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze, her sudden nervousness reflected in the tight smile she sent his way. Drawing in another breath, she tried again.

"Baelfire, I'd no idea what to expect when I found out I was being forced into an arranged marriage. Sure, my father said I had a choice - but given the choice of marrying or watching my parents be killed, there really were no options. The stories I'd heard growing up, girls whose lives were no longer their own once they became the property of a husband... to say I was terrified would not even come close to my emotions as the carriage rolled away from the only home I'd ever known.

"But it took only a day for me to learn you weren't at all what I thought. You sacrificed as much as I did in entering this marriage, and your respect for me in those early days was a shock. I found myself insatiably curious about this boy, whose past was so much more complicated than the spoiled son of a reclusive sorcerer.

"And whatever I needed - breakfast, accompanied to the ball, run away and leave your life behind - you were there, no questions asked. These things you do because you don't see your own worth - they are the very things that make you worth so much.

"And so my promise to you, first and foremost, is that I won't ever let you forget how important you are, and how much you are loved. Because I do love you, that crazy emotion that crept up on me through months of berries and caves and bacon and balls... I love you more than I ever thought possible. And I promise that whatever we encounter, I will stand by your side, or at your back - wherever you need me to be to ensure you never need to go it alone again."

He smiled at her, somewhat unsure what to say apart from a whispered "thank you." As she smiled back, he finally settled on "My turn, huh?"

"Mmhm."

"Okay. Um… my dearest Emma… If I'm being truly honest, I don't even know when it is that I fell for you. One day, I was bound to protect you, absolutely desperate to get you home safe - because it was what I owed to your family, to the kingdom. Yet somehow along the way, it became for me, too - because I needed you, needed you like I was terrified to need anyone ever again. I've loved so few people in my life - and it's always ended in heartache - the very notion that I can love you best by simply being present is a foreign one to me.

"And so I thank you, my dearest darling, for being steadfast in your reminders that it's _me_ you need, not anything that I might be able to give to you or do for you. I'd no inclination to be needed - or necessary - when we started out, I just needed to get you safely home.

"You suggested early on that I might find a home again - and I have, in you. And to find instead that you've become _my_ home - in a cave, a barn, a pine tree or beyond - there are no words to express how much it means. For the first time in a long time, I have something to lose. And that terrifies me as much as it excites me, but most of all, dear heart, it makes me humbled to be chosen as yours. A girl who could have any hand in the kingdom… and she's given it to me. And though I'm still not certain I'm worthy of the Princess, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the girl beneath that mask is my heart's desire.

"And as you promise to remind me that I'm loved, I swear I'll do the same for you - love you for _you_, not for your title or your crown or for your family. Should we remain here for the rest of our days, destitute peasants in a tumbledown shack, we shall remain forever together - me every bit as in love with you as I am today."

He smiled at her after he finished and she smiled back, tears pricking at her eyes. "You may now kiss the bride," she whispered - and he wasted no time doing just that. There they stood, alone in the cabin, celebrating their new union - for a minute or five or more, who could count. When they finally broke apart, Emma bit her lip, eyes listing to the bed in the corner. She linked hands with her husband, pulling him behind her as she took the few steps necessary to cross the cabin. Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck before she resumed kissing him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, drawing back to search her eyes for any sign of doubt or concern. He found none, and after she gave a decisive nod, he bent to kiss her once again before they tumbled onto the bed, finally allowing them to solidify the marriage they'd started so long ago.

* * *

"I'm fine, Charming. It's only a bit of discomfort when Doc examines me - aside from that, completely fine."

"You're not!"

"I _am_," Snow pressed. "I don't understand why you insist on keeping me bedridden."

Charming sighed. "It's important for the healing process, Doc said."

Snow squinted at him suspiciously. "He never told me that."

"It was… towards the beginning, when you were out."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"David, you _are_ lying to me, and I want to know why!" Her voice rose as she spoke, ending in a yell - uncharacteristic for the even-tempered Princess. She shook her head. "Our daughter is _out there_, and I am _fine_. Why don't you leave me to run the kingdom and go to find her?"

Charming rose from his seat near Snow's bed, where he'd spent almost the entirety of his last seven days. He paced the floor, running a hand over his face - stopping, turning to Snow, opening his mouth, then closing it. He scrubbed his face again as he resumed his pacing before stopping once more and meeting her gaze. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you _can't_." Snow leaned forward, shooting daggers at her husband. "It's _Emma_. Of course you can."

"No, I - I can't. It's…" He swallowed. "It's the price."

"Charming."

He looked at her, guilt plain on his face.

"Tell me you didn't."

He hung his head, his eyes welling up with tears of shame - of feeling the weight of his wife's disappointment. "You were in so much pain…" He trailed off, quiet for a minute before he looked back at his wife. "I hadn't a choice."

"David, there is _always_ a choice." She threw back the covers and moved as if to get up off the bed.

"No, Snow, you can't," he said, rushing to get side. "Rumplestiltskin said-"

She cut him off, not even hearing his last statement. "What do you mean I _can't_. I feel fi-aaugh!"

Charming caught her - barely - as she cried out in pain. Her nails dug into his shoulder - she'd grabbed on for support to avoid collapsing back onto the bed. He leaned over, laying her back down - and as he glanced across the bed, he found that the sorcerer responsible for the mess was standing on the other side.

"You!" he cried. "Why is she in pain again?!"

"Told you to keep her calm, didn't I?"

Charming went to lunge for Rumplstiltskin, only to stop as he realized Snow was still clinging to him, whimpering. Looking satisfied, Rumple waved his hand and her body relaxed.

"Now, dear Princess, there shall be no more of this _fine_ business. The leg's got a clean break. It'll heal, but it's a six week process - at a minimum. You may well have just started it over again."

She narrowed her eyes. "What was the price."

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "Just your husband's presence by your side."

"And _you_ were to find Emma," Charming accused. "Have you failed again?"

"She's not to be found, dearie," Rumple replied with a click of his tongue. "Disappeared into the ether, it seems."

"Your son has stolen her! I'll - I'll - I'll put that boy before a firing squad when I find him."

Rumple rolled his eyes. "Are all of the dramatics really necessary?"

"It needn't be dramatic when it's to avenge the kidnapping of a princess."

"You won't be harming my son," Rumplestiltskin replied tersely. "Should you try, the price of his call for help would be greater than you could _ever_ pay."

Charming raised an eyebrow. "Will he even call? Seems to be no love lost between the two of you."

Rumplestiltskin paused, considering the words for a moment. Bae _was_ rather prideful about relying on his father, and should he choose the wrong moment to draw on that pride… Rumplestiltskin made a face and then replied. "Bae's a smart boy. But to save us all the dramatics, how about this: I'll see to it that your daughter makes it home safely… you see to it that my son isn't harmed in the return."

Charming paused, considering. "If - _if_ he returns Emma whole and unharmed, I'll consider letting him live." Rumplestiltskin went to speak, but Charming rose his hand. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You allow the marriage to be annulled."

Rumple paused for a moment; there was nothing that compelled him to comply. But on the other hand, if their adventure hadn't drawn the children together, his plan would have failed and releasing them would cause no harm. In that event, it would be likely to please Bae all the more. So with that forefront in his mind, he replied.

"Bae's life in exchange for an annulment?"

Charming nodded. "Yes."

"Well I do believe you've got yourself a deal."

* * *

Emma's eyelids fluttered open, finding thin beams of light seeping between the logs that comprised the cabin's walls. They fluttered shut again, armor against the assault of the sun, before opening once more to find brown eyes watching her from mere inches away.

"Good morning," Bae said, tilting his head forward to brush his lips across her forehead.

"Quite so, husband mine," she replied, blush creeping onto her cheeks as the prior night's memories flooded her mind. "A good morning indeed."

She caught his hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing kisses onto the pads of his fingers before studying it as she was so wont to do.

"Why do you do that?" he asked. "Study my hands so."

Her blush grew deeper, embarrassment this time. "It's silly, really."

"Humor me. We're married now - doesn't that make me privy to your deepest thoughts?"

"I suppose," she replied, unleashing a sigh as if his request was a burden of the world. She lay silent for a minute more, fiddling with the very fingers he was asking about before speaking. "It was this hand that joined mine the first time we were wed - and this hand that helped me over the wall when we ran from Cora's threat. And it was that grasp which led me to realize I'd begun to fall for you. And then, mere weeks later, the morning after the cave... looking at the blisters and cuts and calluses acquired as you devoted everything you had to keeping me safe. What you do speaks so much louder than what you say, and your hands stand as a testimony to all you've done out of love for me. Kept me warm and fed and safe and _loved_... I just study them and marvel at how much I'm loved. Sometimes it's what I need, more than the words or a kiss or even our vows. I know you love me but I just study your hands and I _know_ that you love me."

She pillowed her head onto his chest, idly tracing its lines with a finger. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and studied her for a moment, taking in the sincerity in her voice and the tears that had sprung up on her lashes. "Are you happy?" he asked, concern soaking his voice, as if the fate of the world was dependent upon her answer.

"Excruciatingly so," she said, looking up at him and reaching out to brush a stray curl off of his forehead. "Far more than I deserve to be."

His brow furrowed. "Why's that?"

"I'm a displaced princess, squatting in an abandoned shack after fleeing for my life with the boy I was forced to marry. And yet I feel safer and more content than I've ever been. It hardly seems right!"

Bae chuckled. "Until you amend that statement by noting that you're a princess in title but not person, tucked in a secluded hideaway with the boy you've now _chosen_ to marry, far removed from the source of the danger." He brushed his lips across her knuckles, a gentle show of affection and reassurance. "You needn't feel guilty for finding happiness in the midst of trials. On the contrary - the ability to do so should be celebrated."

"I suppose," she replied. "You _would_ adopt that position. You sound like my mother. Where did you acquire your optimism, anyhow?"

"Someone has to balance out your cynicism, dear heart."

His eyes sparkled as she thumped him on the shoulder, shooting him a dirty look. "You're so mean to me!"

"Am I now," he said, arching an eyebrow. "I swear I remember being told differently... As recently as last night, as a matter of fact."

Her cheeks burned crimson once again at his insinuation. "Bae!" she scolded, ducking her head.

He paid her no mind, having a chuckle at her expense. "And I suppose now you'll want me to feed you in order to make it up to you."

"Well, I _am_ hungry. It's breakfast time, after all."

"Shocking," he said, his sarcasm doing little to dampen the joy of the morning. He tugged the nearest blanket around his midsection, leaving Emma to yelp and scurry under the remaining layer of covers. "Luckily for you," he continued, nonplussed by her protests, "I anticipated your appetite and grabbed some berries yesterday while I was out picking flowers."

He searched about before finding the berries in the sack they'd gotten from Harold. Swinging it lightly, he walked back over to the bed and tossed it towards his bride. "Here. To make up for being mean."

"You could never be mean to me," she said, fussing with the strings of the bag - as if to hide her sincerity. "You don't have a mean bone in your body, Baelfire."

He snorted. "Says the girl bound by law to take my side."

"Says the girl who fell for you because of your kindness," she rebutted, holding the pouch of berries out to him. "Here. You eat too."

He sighed, shaking his head, but complied. She'd never let up if he didn't.

"What of our day today?" she asked as he chewed.

He swallowed. "Hopefully there's something in yesterday's traps. And -" he paused, knowing he was about to incite a quarrel - "I've a mission to find out whose grounds we're trespassing on."

She harrumphed. "Is it really necessary?"

"Will you truly be able to relax if we don't? I won't."

"I suppose," she conceded sullenly.

"Emma, dearest," he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek, "I've only a mind to wander a bit - to see if there's a nearby homestead that lays claim to this place. If I find nothing - and if no one finds us - then we can stay."

"Well enough," she agreed. "Get on with it then. I'll work on the traps while you head off on your mission."

Bae nodded. Then he leaned over and kissed her - the affection lasting dangerously long. "Hey now," he said softly. "I won't be gone long."

"You better not be," she replied.

* * *

Hours later he returned, a pail of water in his hand. "Found this outside," he said. "Drips a bit from the bottom, but it'll do well enough to bring water from the creek."

"And what of your mission?" she asked.

He shrugged. "No one around to inquire with. So, my dear," he said, walking across to where she was gutting the rabbit she'd found in the trap, "the cabin lives to serve another day."


	23. Chapter 23

Lincolnshire, as it turns out, wasn't terribly different than the cave.

There was a structure - sure - and the climate was a bit warmer. But they were still limited by their meager means - living off of what they could catch and the vegetables they dug out of the perennial garden that Emma had unearthed in the overgrown backyard. She was no more eager to be snapped up by a deranged sorceress than she had been then, and although the distance gave her some peace of mind, everything she gained was stolen back by Bae's newfound worry.

Given the incident with the pirate, Bae found himself terribly concerned that they'd be found, that the fates would steal his happiness away just as he'd found it - snatching Emma from his grasp and leaving him heartbroken, forced to explain to her parents - and the kingdom - how he'd come to love her, yet failed to keep her safe.

And so Emma's days were spent within a near radius of the cabin. It surprised her to find that at first she didn't mind so much - she'd plenty to keep her busy, and the less she was seen, the better. Besides, everything her heart desired was in that cabin, what need did she have to stray? For as much as their circumstance was like the cave, the difference in relationship was significant - newlyweds in every sense of the word. As the weeks turned to months, their time was passed simply - dealing with the needs of the moment and continuing to discover each other. Because for all that they were inseparable, there were still constantly things to learn - conversations to be had - each coming to appreciate the experiences of the other's life, so divergent from their own.

"I really did try, you know," Bae told her one day, as they sat at the table eating their evening meal. "After my father had brought me back."

"Try what?"

He sighed. "To be his son again. To let him be the father he swore he wanted to be." He paused, pushing the chunks of sunroot around on his plate. "I figured, all I wanted was for him to come save me from that hellhole. And it took him forever, but he finally did."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I mean, it sounds so stupid I guess, but it was just the two of us in that giant castle and he told me to make myself at home - so I went exploring. I found this library, biggest thing you've ever seen, floor to ceiling books, so tall you needed a ladder to reach them all. I spent a few days holed up in there, curled up in a chair in the corner, and thought maybe it would be okay, maybe it could be a home. But then one day he found me and - I don't know, something snapped. He started hollering about how it wasn't mine, I never should have gone in there, they weren't my books to touch. I guess he must have felt bad in hindsight, he had books delivered to my room regularly after that, but the damage was done. How do you trust someone whose temper is as brittle as that?"

In fact, the remarkableness of Lincolnshire was as much in what it lacked as in what it had. No deranged sorceresses, demanding parents, or confines of royalty. No pretense of a false marriage, nor explanation of a love story that wasn't quite straightforward; no rules limiting propriety or expectations pressing in from the rest of the world.

They lived as peasants - limited means, but limited turmoil. Sure, they'd managed the traditional "first fight" as Emma became restless with the confines of their homestead - a difference of opinion about how far from the cabin she should wander on her own, in which Bae accused her of being callous with her own safety and she accused him of trying to own her. It lasted into the night, Bae snatching a blanket and sleeping on the dusty cabin floor - not even a settee to host his slumber. In the end, she won, bursting into tears from her frustration and well - she wasn't quite sure why. Probably the same reason they'd fought in the first place. Her emotions had been a bit out of control as of late, something she'd put off to being trapped in one place for too long.

Though in the end Bae had conceded her free reign, the haunted look in his eyes convinced her that the victory was hollow. She quickly realized it was far less about possession or control - as had been her experiences in the past - and far more about his history of loss. She knew better, she thought, berating herself. To ease her conscience, she voluntarily set parameters of the stream to the east, the neighboring farmland at the south. Once in a blue moon, she satisfied her wanderlust by accompanying Bae to the market.

The fight blew over; growing them as individuals and strengthening them as a duo. It was a reminder, for Bae, that he needn't hold onto Emma quite so tightly - that she was well-equipped to navigate mere mortals - and for Emma, that she needn't project onto Bae the assumptions she held from her parents. Apart from that incident, they quarreled rarely; Emma was usually the instigator, and though Bae would never back down from his opinions, he had a way of disarming her that stole the wind right out of her sails. She was endlessly torn between finding it endearing and annoying, but in the end, she found it made her love him ever the more.

At some point, shortly after they'd arrived at the cabin, they had talked and agreed that Hannah and Harold's words were wise. If they'd had to explain their sudden appearance, "runaway princess" would certainly not suffice, nor could they be Baelfire and Emma, son and daughter-in-law of the Dark One. So they settled on sticking with Ruth and John - fewer names to draw from, to spout incorrectly under duress - and upon Bae's suggestion, brother and sister rather than husband and wife.

"That's… wrong," Emma had said, nose wrinkled.

"Yes, but if anyone is looking for you - and me in tandem - it will be as a husband, a kidnapper, perhaps a friend - never as a brother."

So she shrugged and gave him the ruse - for whyever would they need it, anyways?

The answer came for the first time when Emma stumbled upon a farmer, the man who worked the farmland at the south. Ambling back from the creek, the leaky pail drip-drip-dripping through the cracks in the top of her boots, she stumbled upon a cow meandering along the trail towards her - one that she was quite certain didn't belong there.

Though her experience with cattle was limited - nay, nonexistent - she figured they couldn't be so far removed from the equine species with which she was far more familiar. And so she greeted the cow, gave him a pat, and grabbed hold of his collar. The cow, as luck would have it, was rather complaint, allowing Emma to lead him back along the path - just so long as she allowed him to graze on the grass as they went.

After a few hundred feet of this wander and graze pattern, she found a breach in the fence - undoubtedly the cow's method of escape. So she tucked him back through, hauling a few of the planks across the gap, and started back on down the road. Unfortunately, so did the cow - knocking the planks down with a gentle rooting of his head. Emma sighed, turning back once more and stepping over the fallen planks to drag the cow back into his pasture.

She wasn't so quick to be done this time, leading the cow back towards the barn, a bit less patience in her step. Halfway up the pasture, she spied an old man - hunched and moving so slowly she made it nearly to the barn before they met.

"Found your cow out on the path, headed towards the creek," she hollered up at him.

The old man shrugged. "Third time this week. There's a reason I call her Gypsy. She's got a wanderin' soul."

"Aren't you worried you'll lose her?"

Another shrug. "She wanders back eventually."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to mend the fence?" Her voice was a normal level now, as she got within reaching distance of the old man - handing the cow's reigns over.

He snorted. "Tain't enough daylight for me to get that fence mended - and if I leave it for the night, she'll just knock it straight back down again." He gave the cow a tug, heading back from the barn.

Emma followed behind, unbidden. "I could help."

The old man looked her over and snorted. "You're just a little girl, ain't be worth much more than this old man alone."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "That's needlessly harsh."

"Tain't harsh when it's true."

"Look, sir," Emma said, cursing the long-ingrained habit of propriety - this man had insulted her, why must she address him so?! - "I think you're in need of a bit of help, why not accept some from a neighbor."

The man stopped. "You got a name, girl?"

"Eh-" She faltered. "Ruth."

"Well, Ruth, you seem a spry thing. Where'd you come from, anyways."

She jutted her finger over her shoulder. "My - ah - my brother and I - we've been staying at the cabin down the way."

"Ahh, old Mrs. Simon's place. Been abandoned since her children took her to the village with them some years back - surprised it's still standin."

Emma chuckled. "Barely." A leisurely pause followed, the old man staring back expressionless. Finally, she continued. "So what do you say? Give me some twine and some nails, I'll have your fence mended good as new."

The old man merely scoffed. An idea occurring to her, Emma flashed him a grin. "Still think I can't do it? I'll make you a wager, then. For the sport of it."

"A wager?"

"If I can't mend the fence, I'll bring my brother along to do it, and we'll both give you another day's labor besides."

"Or?"

"If I succeed, you'll owe me three shillings."

"Three shillings? Girl, you've done gone mad."

Emma smiled. "You're so certain I can't do the work - so where's the harm?"

The old man narrowed his eyes, studying Emma for a moment. Finally he broke into a toothless grin. "Girl, I like your spirit. You're on. You've got til sundown to finish... and if Gypsy stays in til week's end, the shillins are yours."

He then spat into his hand and extended it towards Emma. Upon seeing her raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "You want to work like a man, you best shake like a man."

She gave her own shrug and copied the gesture. Breaking the shake, she looked around. "Twine? Nails?"

"Best remember the hammer, too."

Needless to say, Emma won the wager.

She met the farmer at the fence at week's end, and he stuffed weathered hands into his pockets, grudgingly digging out the promised shillings. A tentative friendship was formed - the farmer catching Emma on her trips to the creek, offering a small payment for help with some menial task or another. Though she knew he appreciated the help, she was certain he appreciated the company more. His grown children had been killed in a war decades prior, and his wife had followed a few years back. "I only stick around for the animals," he told her. "Can't have Gypsy and her friends starvin' to death."

The coppers were much appreciated, useful for spending at the market for the odd items they couldn't grow or catch. One day in late spring, for example, the object was trousers. Emma's thin riding pants - worn the day they made their escape - were threadbare, and it turned out needlepoint didn't translate to mending as easily as she would have liked. So on Tuesday they headed to town - apparently market day in the small village. Or so Bae said. She could barely tell what month it was, let alone what day.

Months of peasantry hadn't dulled Emma's love of the marketplace. The barely controlled chaos, the energy stemming from the townsfolk heading this way and that - she was even content, for once, to let Bae drag her behind him as he dodged in and out of stalls. He paused at the edge of a main road to let a carriage pass and she found herself people-watching; a young mother approached the stall of a fishmonger, pointing to a fish and making an offer.

The fishmonger let out a loud rumble of laughter, startling the babe asleep in a sling on her mother's chest. The peasant woman shushed her, dipping her head to press a kiss to her child's forehead. She brought a hand to pat the child's bottom - rhythmically, in time with her swaying, soothing the child back to sleep even as she never missed a beat in her negotiations. The little girl's eyes slid back shut and Emma wondered - for a moment - if she'd ever been so easily contented in her own mother's arms.

"C'mon," Bae said, tugging on her arm and hauling her away from the spectacle. "We can catch all the fish we need, even if they're smaller than his. The tailor's this way."

In the end, Emma ended up with only one lone pair of trousers - tight enough only if they cinched the drawstring all the way. Having always had clothing made specifically for her, she never realized trousers weren't sized to fit women - especially those who'd spent the last few months all but starving to death. Grudgingly, she found a few flowing skirts - they'd be all right for wash day, she supposed. The skirts were, at least, inexpensive. Luckily Bae's trousers had fared far better than hers. She wondered if, perhaps, his father had laced them with magic - or if he was simply less prone to wear recklessly through them. In any event, for the sake of the household budget, Emma couldn't find it in her to complain.

Even Bae's furtive instincts weren't immune to lingering at the market long enough to split a pastry - the art of baking not being one mastered by either half of the young duo. They munched on their treat before wandering to the miller's tent, in search of a small sack of flour. Emma'd remembered enough of cook's lessons to make passable biscuits, which helped at least a bit to round out their meager dinners.

As they stood waiting for the baker to fill a sack of flour, too busy chewing to strike up a conversation, voices drifted in from the neighboring stall.

"Have you heard the latest news from up north?" the peddler said, chatting with his customer as he packaged his wares.

Emma nudged Bae, tilting her head to the left. He raised an eyebrow as the the peasant shook his head no. She raised her own - hope clear in her eyes of news of Cora's capture.

The peddler grunted before dashing her hopes. "The crier said we're to be on the lookout - the young princess has been kidnapped to parts unknown. She's a famed beauty, you know, just like her mother before her. Some scheme involving being sold to the Dark One - rumor has it that he's a son who stole the girl. Whether to rescue her from his father or to enslave her himself is rather unclear."

"I'd bet a shilling it's the latter."

The shopkeeper grunted. "Frankly, I didn't even know the Dark One had a son. Nor did anyone else, from the sounds of it."

"Well, Lincolnshire's a far cry from the royal lands. Can't imagine how such a girl would end up here."

And yet Emma tugged up her hood, exchanging a worried glance with Bae as she felt her world cinch a bit tighter - word gained that the kingdom was on the lookout. They hustled back to the cabin, quickly reaching an agreement that the marketplace was best avoided for the near future. She didn't _need_ to venture out, not really, not if it put them in danger - she'd plenty at the cabin to keep her busy.

That afternoon, head still wrapped up the sights and sounds of the marketplace, Emma gave some thought to castle life, so foreign in light of her current plight as a peasant. She adored her life - but it couldn't be forever - and whatever would happen to them next?

"Bae?" she asked, a note in her voice causing him to pause in his task to give her his full attention.

"Hm?"

"What will we do when all this is over? When Cora is caught... what's next for us?"

He furrowed his brow, turning and staring at her for a moment. Walking to the table where she sat, he pulled out a chair and settled himself next to her. "Anything you want."

She bit her lip. "I've responsibilities, you know."

He nodded, slowly, her duties never far from his mind. "Then we'll go home, I suppose."

"Home?"

He shrugged. "The cottage? Your parents' castle, maybe - eventually, I suppose. The leadership of a kingdom will fall to you someday."

"To us," she corrected without thinking. "Is that what you want? Do you really want to run a kingdom?"

He reached out, wrapping his hand around hers and giving it a squeeze. "There are far worse fates than living in a palace and running a kingdom. And at the end of the day, what I really want is you."

She shot him a mock glare - punishment for escaping the question - but couldn't keep it up in light of his endearing answer. "But are you okay with this, truly? Or should we send a letter to my parents, set sail for a foreign land... Make a life only of our own, no pull of royal duties to speak of?"

"And who would run the kingdom then, my dear? You said it yourself, long ago - there's no one else for the role, it's you who's been groomed for it. Though I'd never a burning desire to lead the kingdom myself... I fear that's the life I chose when I agreed to marry you."

"But you didn't choose -"

"I did. The _second_ time, dear heart, the one where I understood completely the life I would be accepting. That plan has never changed - keep you safe, protected from Cora, return you home to your family and your duty to the kingdom. It's just that... now I've wrapped myself up in it."

She smiled as he shrugged, his own small smile showing his comfort with the situation. "We don't have to-"

"We do," he replied, "And you know it as well as I do. But," he said, standing and moving back to the warped board that served as a kitchen counter, "until that time comes... we'll enjoy the peace here. And the solitude - away from all of the madness."

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the castle situated in the woods outside of Northpass, Prince Charming paced across the worn wooden floor in the library - awaiting the arrival of a guest. After a few minutes, his patience wore out and he let out a bellow.

"RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"

The sorcerer appeared behind the prince, rolling his eyes. "I was on my way, you needn't yell. You said the meeting was at one - I've five minutes yet."

The prince whirled around, his attempt to mask his startlement only partially successful. "No need to let this farce of a marriage continue any longer than it has to. Sit," David commanded, gesturing at the chair to his right.

"You know, in light of the fact I've got two good legs, I think I'll just go ahead and use them."

It was Charming's turn to roll his eyes. He opted out of picking a fight, instead gesturing at the man seated across the table from him. "You remember Bishop Armin. He performed the children's ceremony. Such as it was."

"And what a lovely pair they made," the Bishop spoke up. "Are the two well?"

"Hardly." The prince snorted. "That's why we're here. _He_ forced them into the marriage," Charming said, glaring in the direction of the sorcerer. "It's a farce. I'd like it annulled."

The Bishop looked at Rumplestiltskin. "Is this true?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "The princess' parents signed her away in infancy. I merely held them to their bargain."

"And they'd like out of it?" the Bishop asked, looking between both fathers as they nodded. Unleashing a heavy sigh, the Bishop nodded. "Very well then." Standing, he made his way to the oak cabinets that lined the wall of his chamber. "Let me just find the decree... In the meantime, send the children in so that I might get their signatures."

After several seconds of silence he turned to find the two men exchanging a look. "Well? Won't you get them for me so that we can get on with it? Those poor darlings have been through enough with your machinations, let's set them free so that they can get on with their lives."

"They're not... here..." The prince began slowly.

"I see that. Why don't you go get them, then? Or shall we schedule an appointment for tomorrow? I'll have everything ready."

Charming looked at Rumplestiltskin, imploring him to explain. The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "I don't see why that's necessary. You performed the ceremony, can't you just tear up the certificate? There's nothing legitimate about the marriage."

The Bishop's eyes narrowed. "I can't annul a marriage without the parties present. Certainly you understand the ramifications if I were to-"

Charming bristled. "Even under order from your Prince?"

The Bishop raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, sir, I answer to a power even higher than you. As such - if the children would like their marriage annulled, they'll need to appear and concede to it themselves." A pause and then, "Tomorrow then?"

"Erm, they aren't -" Charming faltered. "They won't be available then, either."

"Ah, I see," the Bishop replied softly. "Care to let me know when they might be available?"

"That seems to be the question of the hour," Rumplestiltskin said.

"Oh?"

"They've run off."

"_They_ have run off? Together?"

"Well not-" David began, but Rumplestiltskin waved him off.

"Yes, together."

* * *

The mundaneness of Lincolnshire was interrupted one day, in a most rude and unexpected way.

Bae was preparing the meat for dinner and Emma had gone to dig out something to round out the meal. As he slipped the meat onto the fry pan, Emma walked back into the cabin. Bae turned to look at her, finding her arms full of greenery. "I've gathered some asparagus chutes - I know we've eaten them three days in a row but we've so many and so-" She stopped mid-sentence, wrinkling her nose. "What is that smell?" she asked, sounding offended.

"Squirrel?"

Her look of disgust deepened. She dumped the asparagus onto the table before turning and fleeing back out the cottage door.

"Emma?" Bae called after her, abandoning the meat over the fire and rushing out behind his wife. He grabbed the canteen on the way - she'd looked as if she was going to be sick - the least he could offer her was a way to rinse her mouth after.

Sure enough, he found her crouched in the brush next to the cabin, retching. He set the canteen down in order to catch her long hair in his hands, holding it away from her face. "Hey, hey," he said, rubbing small circles on her back with his free hand. "What's all this about? Squirrel's never bothered you before."

She shrugged, making no attempt to move from her spot. "Stomach's been acting up the last day or so. Guess it finally caught up with me."

His brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She sat up on her haunches, leaning against the cabin and shooting him a grin that felt out of place considering the circumstance. "I know how you worry."

"That's not a reason to keep things from me!" The mischief that rose in her eyes gave him hope that her stomach had quieted, and he handed her the canteen. "Here, rinse."

She did as directed, handing it back when she'd finished. "Suppose you'd refuse to kiss me until I did, hm?"

"Don't deflect, Emma," he said, offering a hand to help her stand. "You're sick! You shouldn't hide it from me."

"It's just a bug," she said, waving him off. "Or more likely, a spoiled good of some sort. With the way we eat, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Got it out of my system... I feel better already."

He eyed her warily, guiding her back into the cabin. "So you'll be fine for dinner, then." It was a statement, not a question, and he waited for her to call her own bluff.

"Maybe not the squirrel..." she said, wrinkling her nose again as the smell wafted over to where they were. Paling a bit, she continued. "Yeah, definitely not the squirrel."

He chuckled, showing her into a seat at the table and rooting around on the shelves next to the fireplace. "Here, how about a biscuit," he asked, handing her a chunk of salted hardtack left from an earlier meal. "I don't think it's too stale yet."

She accepted it, smiling in appreciation as she nibbled on the edge. "This is definitely more my speed."

He puttered around the kitchen, turning the meat in the pan and rinsing and chopping the asparagus. He kept one eye trained on his wife - as he was wont to do anyways, if the truth were told - but his anxiety calmed as the contents of her stomach seemed to be staying put. A pot had been put on to boil and he ladled water out of it and into a mug, pouring it over some sourgrass he'd retrieved from the yard a few days prior. Asparagus went into the boiling pot as the meat came off to cool and he checked Emma's tea, placing it in front of her.

"When did you become such a caretaker?" she teased him, gratefully accepting the warm mug.

He shrugged, cutting up the animal she'd found so offensive as they talked. "I dunno. I suppose since I've had someone to take care of." He shot her a quick smile, playing off the deep emotions that Emma was in no state to rehash.

"Suppose you have been doing it as long as I've known you."

He hummed in agreement as he carried his plate to the table. "Old habits, I suppose. When it was just me and Papa, we took care of each other." He stared off into a space for a moment, then shook his head, coming out of the reverie. "That's been a long time gone."

They chatted lightly as he ate, Emma gnawing at the edge of the biscuit as she sipped her tea. Once she had finished, he stood, carrying her dishes back to the counter. "I'll tidy up, you're in no shape for housework."

"Thank you," she murmured, the lack of argument betraying just how poorly she was feeling. She pushed back from the table, looking somewhat steadier. "I think I might just try to sleep it off."

"A good plan." Bae fought the urge to get up and help her over to the bed. Though he continued eating, his gaze never left his wife, worry in his eyes. They'd navigated Cora - the cave - the pirate - the journey to Lincolnshire and their time there. But luck couldn't remain on their side forever, and an ailment - well - anything serious would certainly be a threat they simply couldn't handle.

* * *

A/N - Lincolnshire, as it turns out, was such a time of respite for our characters that it was rather challenging to write! As such, I apologize for length between chapters. I appreciate the review/favs/follows that I've gotten, especially recently - they do motivate me to work on the story! So thank you all!

The latter half of Lincolnshire is well on its way, as Emma's illness reaches a fever pitch that leaves our young heroes with some decisions to be made. My goal is to have it up before the holidays… fingers crossed!

Thanks for reading!

\- DSB


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** \- Gosh, you give a girl a stomach bug and everybody flips out… :p

Seriously guys, I think that's the most replies I've ever gotten that quickly. They all brought a grin to my face - so thank you! It truly is motivating, and gave me the kick in the rump I needed to round out this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

-DSB

* * *

The next morning, Bae crept out of bed with the sun, leaving Emma to sleep off her sickness - in hopes that a good rest would kick it from her system. She hadn't been ill again, and though he'd checked multiple times throughout the night, she wasn't feverish, either.

He allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic as he dug a biscuit off of the supply shelf and placed it on the table, wanting to ensure she had easy access to something to calm her stomach as necessary. He took one last glance at his wife, then eased himself out the cabin door. Emma had promised her farmer friend that she'd help muck out some horse stalls - he supposed the "brotherly" thing to do would be to take up her chores while she was feeling unwell.

As the morning progressed, he found himself in agreement with Emma's assessment of the farmer. Bae had done a bit of work, but mostly he'd listened to the old man talk - about the various needs of the farm, the old man's rheumatism, and stories of the man's family. Bae hadn't much to share, but the man didn't seem to mind. Once the stalls were mucked, he pressed a shilling into Bae's hand and sent him home - "You take care of that sister, you hear? She's good people."

Bae grinned. "That she is."

* * *

"Have you been ill again?" he asked upon his return.

"Not since this morning," she said with a shrug, leaning in to greet him with a kiss.

He scowled.

"What? I rinsed!"

"I don't like it, Emma. We haven't access to a physician or medication out here and -"

"And nothing. It's run through my system - I was a bit off when I got up but I'm perfectly fine now. I even caught some fish while you were away at the market - they're on the table for you to clean."

He eyed her warily, but her words rang true. And as he watched her throughout the evening, his hope grew that perhaps she was right and that it would serve as but a footnote in the road of their life as peasants. She seemed on the mend; a bit lethargic, to be sure - and straight to bed after dinner, quite unlike herself - but vastly improved from the prior evening.

As he cleaned up from the meal and joined her on the straw mat they called a bed, he wrapped protective arms around his wife and pressed a kiss to her temple. She wriggled closer in her sleep and he sighed - maybe it would be all right after all.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the palace, the kingdom's prince had not stopped ranting about the audacity of the bishop. Though the meeting had been the day prior, he remained upset, and Snow thought perhaps it was time for his anger to have run its course.

"I can't believe he refused to grant the annulment," Charming said, growling in frustration. "She shouldn't be lashed to her kidnapper!"

Snow sighed, steeling herself for a battle. "He's right, though. You can't annul someone's marriage without giving them a say." A pause and then, "And particularly given the news that they've run off together. He's right to wait, to give them a say."

"And what if Emma's been manipulated enough to tell him - what if - what if -"

"And what if she hasn't?" Show asked. "Charming," she said, walking across the room to put a hand on his arm. "Have you so little faith in your daughter?"

"I suppose not," he replied, hanging his head. He drew his wife into his arms, holding her close against his chest as he took a steadying breath. "I just - _son of the Dark One_. Whatever were we thinking?"

"That we hadn't a choice," Snow replied, looking up at him. "You know Emma. You _offered_ \- she refused to let you sacrifice yourself. We raised her to see family, to see _love_ as the most important thing of all. She would have bartered her own soul to keep us safe."

"And yet I'm afraid that's just what she did."

Snow pulled back, making a face at him. "Dearest, don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic? Emma never expressed any concerns about the boy. On the contrary, she jumped to his defense. And what would he gain from running off with her, hiding in a cave as you found they'd been doing? He already had the advantage of her title. Stealing away with her, against her will, in the dead of night - staying gone for months - it seems there must be far more to the story than that."

"But I thought we agreed... Her blanket!"

Snow patted his cheek. "I had much time to think while bedridden. I do agree it's strange that she'd leave it behind - but I fear I was quick to jump to conclusions based on that one small fact. I just can't see how he could have stolen her away, hidden her this long, if she wasn't complicit in it."

"But why-"

"She's a price on her head, Charming. _And_ she's her mother's daughter. What did I do when Regina put a price on mine?"

Charming sighed. "You ran."

"Precisely. And just as I kept myself safe - Emma will do the same. Perhaps she'll even be at an advantage, having the boy to help her - much as I was once I found you. When the time is right, she'll come back to us, whole and healthy and unharmed. You just have to trust that we've taught her well, Charming - she'll take care of herself."

Charming grunted, tired of the argument. He wasn't going to win it - never would with Snow - but he didn't agree. Emma was in danger, he could feel it in his bones. And furthermore... he was certain it was all due to that boy.

* * *

Unfortunately for Bae, it seemed his optimism about Emma's illness was misplaced. Though it waxed and waned - often in the same day - she could never quite seem to kick it. This went on for a matter of weeks, Bae worrying himself to the point of distraction. Emma, of course, insisted she was "fine" and "just a bit off," but she still couldn't stand the smell of squirrel and he swore he'd never seen someone sleep so much in his life.

She didn't seem to be getting worse, but she also didn't seem to be getting better, either. On top of it all, her temper seemed particularly short - and though he might have been willing to put that off Emma being Emma, he couldn't so easily excuse away the bouts of frustrated tears that she suddenly seemed prone to. _That_ was unquestionably new, and though it didn't seem as if it should correlate to her illness, the timing was simply uncanny.

Perhaps, he thought, it stemmed from being cooped up in the cabin all the time. Between the news of the town being on the lookout and her illness, Emma had stayed closer to the cabin than ever, rarely even venturing into the yard for more than a few minutes at a time. He had a notion that if he could find a way for her to enjoy the fresh air, perhaps her symptoms would abate - if not the sickness itself, at least some of the toll it was taking. So he paid a visit to Emma's farmer friend, begging some rope and the loan of a saw in exchange for the promise of several mornings spent helping to shear the sheep.

Emma, if she'd been well, would have demanded to know what he was doing, spending several days in the woods turning trees into planks and lashing them together - but being not at her sharpest, he managed to slip it by with her unawares. In the end, he ended up with a satisfactory - if slightly crooked - garden swing. He'd thought he might hang it on the porch, but upon finding that the cost for a few nails was that of a week's worth of eggs, he settled for tying it up in the trees that bordered the yard. It was set at the edge of the woods, within ten feet of the door but with plenty of room to sway and enjoy the warm spring breezes.

He was chopping asparagus for the evening's dinner stew when she awoke. He watched her stretch, fighting back the nausea she wouldn't admit to still having. "Morning beautiful," he quipped, and she stuck out her tongue at him. He'd learned by now not to ask how she was feeling - her answer was always the same, never truthful - so instead he put down the folding knife and ambled to where she was perched on the corner of the bed, tying up her hair.

"I made you something."

"Oh?"

"It's in the yard. C'mon." Upon seeing the scowl on her face, he continued. "It'll be worth it. I promise."

He grabbed her hand - pausing as she stood and steadied herself - and hauled her out the front door. He stepped through, then pushed her in front of him - only to nearly trip over her when she stopped cold.

"Bae? You made this?"

He shrugged. "Thought it might be nice for you to get outside a bit more."

She flew across the yard - more energy than he'd seen in weeks - and dropped onto the bench, pushing off with her toes. "It's lovely! Best present anyone's ever given to me," she said, patting the spot next to her.

Obediently he sat. "Ever?"

She thought, screwing up her face in concentration. "It's certainly the most thoughtful. And - yes. Best."

He tried to hide his grin, but it was a bit useless, and she elbowed him in the ribs. "C'mon, you're allowed to take a little pride in that."

"I suppose." A beat and then, "I'm glad you like it."

"It's impossibly sweet. You're a good man, Baelfire, and a good husband." He snorted. "What? You are!"

"Says who?"

"Your wife, for starters... and I believe she's the one most qualified to make that determination, hm?"

"I suppose." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "It's just the truth." Another moment passed, as her toes pushed off the ground, allowing the swing to lilt lightly in the breeze. "What was yours?"

He squinted at her. "My what?"

"Best present."

He looked taken aback for a moment, inhaled, then blew out a breath. "My best - boy, that's a lot of years. I don't know." He thought for a moment more. "Is it a cop-out if I say you? Not -" he noticed her raised eyebrow - "as a gift from my father, which was... _so_ wrong... but you choosing to share your life with me, to give me something to fight for again, something to live for. I'd forgotten what it was live, not to simply survive day to day, but to truly live. I think it's that."

A beat passed, and then she leaned in to kiss him. As they broke apart, she grinned. "Boy, a garden swing sure sounds shallow after that."

* * *

Weeks of having easy access to the spring air hadn't cured Emma. He hadn't really believed it would, but in his desperation, he had hoped. He'd convinced himself that things were better; the naps had mostly abated and she hadn't been sick in a number of days. Of course, then there was a lean day with the traps, where the only thing he seemed able to catch was a squirrel - and without anything else for dinner he couldn't justify turning it into jerky, as he'd been doing with those he'd caught over the past few weeks. So he cautiously allowed her to cook it for dinner, only to catch her running out to the garden once the meat started frying.

He'd had enough. _Something_ had to be done. It had been four weeks of this illness - or five, maybe? He'd lost count - and every time he thought she was improving, she backslid all over again. Of course, what to do was the question.

The answer took a few days; market day led Bae to town to fetch more flour for biscuits and maybe a new water pail, as the drip had turned into more of a leak. The pail had been a bust - he'd have to try to fix the one they had - but the flour was cheap enough to buy a pound. As he stood at the grain merchant's booth, a tall mall walked up behind him, the signature hat of a physician immediately piquing Bae's interest.

"Allo!" the grain merchant greeted the man, grinning. "Ow's my best customer?"

The man grunted. "Just returned from seeing Old Man Abrams... family's begged me to save him, but I'm afraid he's not long for this world."

The grain merchant clucked in sympathy even as Bae's eyes widened, his suspicions confirmed. Perhaps he could talk to the man, get some counsel, something to calm him as an anxious husband - no, brother, he reminded himself. A thin layer of protection, to be sure, but anything was worth it if it kept Emma from being caught.

Before he could ask, the physician continued, loosing a heavy sigh. "To top it all off, I promised my wife that I'd bring her back asparagus for dinner, and no one has it on offer."

Bae's eyes lit up. "We've some," he piped up, causing the men to look over at him. "Back at my homestead. Walk's not far."

"How much are you asking?"

Bae bit his lip, careful to keep his voice level. "You're a physician?"

"Son, you can't set your fee based on someone's trade! Of all the gall-"

"No, no," he replied anxiously, shaking his head. "I've no mind to do that. It's just that - my - my sister, she's been ill, I'm terribly worried about her. If you could just come look at her, let me know what's to be done - I'll gladly give you all of the asparagus you can carry."

The physician grunted, frowning. "My workday's done, but I suppose... can't have an unhappy wife now. Fine. No treatment, just an assessment. Treatment'll cost you extra."

"That sounds a fair deal," Bae replied. "If we leave at once, you'll have the asparagus back to your wife in time for dinner."

* * *

The sound of voices roused Emma from her slumber. One she recognized as her husband's; the other unknown. Her eyes darted around immediately, trying to suss out a hiding place, but the men were at the door before she could so much as throw the covers back. Out of options, she instead burrowed deeper under the blankets, hiding her face in the layers, just enough space to draw a breath and keep from suffocating. The voices faded in; Bae's was one, but she couldn't recognize the man questioning him.

"She's far more tired than usual," the man said brusquely.

"Yes," Bae replied.

"And frequently nauseated."

"Yes."

"But no cough, no flushing, no other signs of illness?"

"No, sir."

She peered from beneath the blankets to find the man squinting in thought. A physician, judging from his attire. Whatever was Bae thinking, bringing that man here? He turned back to Bae. "She's your sister, you say?"

"Yes," Bae said once again.

"And she's unmarried?"

Bae fidgeted. "If she had a husband, would I be the one fretting over her?"

"Hmm." The physician seemed to concede his point, pursing his lips. He thought for a moment, then continued in the same vein, not ready to let the subject drop. "She hasn't a sweetheart, a beau, no chance of-"

"It's just us," Bae replied, cutting him off before he could press for further details. "My mother was killed when I was four. And my father..." He shook his head, sighing. "It's just us."

"Hmm," the physician replied again, his brow furrowing. Emma clamped her eyes shut as he walked over to where she lay, and she felt his clammy fingers brush across her forehead. "She's no fever, son. Exhaustion and digestive discontent, well, that could be any number of things. Likely she just picked up an ailment that's stubborn in its passing. You've been ill, too?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Huh," he said again, tapping a finger against his lips and pondering for a moment. "Where do you get your water?"

Bae's thumb jutted back over his shoulder, gesturing towards the back of the cabin. "The creek up the way, sir."

"Perhaps that's it. Coming from out of the area, maybe it's not setting well with her system. Might be that it's contaminated upstream somehow. You can try boiling it." He offered a shrug, his expression giving away that he wasn't sold on the solution.

"And that's it? No diagnosis, no remedy, just... boil the water?"

The elder man chuckled. "I'm afraid it's all I can do for you, son. If she had a beau I'd say - but - no, she'll likely just need to ride it out. If she develops a fever or she's unable to keep any food in her belly at all, come find me. Otherwise, it's likely not fatal, if that's any comfort."

Bae's face fell. "There's nothing more to do?"

"Just time and rest, son. She's on the mend. She'll be well soon enough, just give it time."

Bae nodded, enthusiasm zapped from his demeanor. He walked towards the door and turned back, clearly expecting the physician to follow. Instead, he found the physician rooted to his spot near the bed, staring at the crown of Emma's head.

"You know there's a missing princess. The kingdom's been searching."

"I heard tell of it at the market last week. How strange!"

"Seems the Dark One cast a spell on the royal family, enchanted the young princess, bewitched her to marry his son. They lived in peace for a matter of days before the son stole off with her in the night. No telling how nefarious his motives, son of the Dark One and all."

Bae fought to keep his expression steady, instead letting out a long, low whistle. "Sounds like quite the mess up there."

"You don't know anything about that, do you son?"

Bae laughed. "Are you insinuating my ill sister is the princess?" The physician shrugged and Bae continued. "Does this look like the secret hideout of a runaway princess? The corner of the roof's caved in, the mattress is hemorrhaging straw and I can't even afford a visit from a physician. Something tells me even a displaced princess would have better means than those of a sheep farmer who hasn't any sheep."

"Suppose so," the physician replied, sounding reluctant but resolute. "It's just my duty, you know, as a subject…"

Bae nodded. "I understand. I'd keep an eye out, too, if I were you."

He looked Bae over, seeming to find him trustworthy as he visibly relaxed. Bae continued, "Let's go grab your bushel and get you on home to your wife - I bet she's anxious to see you."

"Or to get her hands on that asparagus," the physician said with a chuckle.

Emma heard the door bang shut behind the men. Voices and rustling persisted outside for a few minutes, as she lay in bed, seething. It was one thing for Bae to worry as he did - endearing, even - but this was a matter of pure stupidity. She was going to have his head for this one.

* * *

Bae gave the physician a wave as he set off, standing just outside the door until the man disappeared from sight. He walked back into the cabin and stared at Emma's frail form, letting out a sigh. It had been worth a shot.

"Is he gone?" came the whisper from a crevice in the blankets.

"Nearly out to the road by now, I'd imagine."

"Good," Emma said, tossing back the covers and springing up in the bed - leveling a glare at Bae even as he could see her fight the nausea that stemmed from sitting up too quickly. "Now you can tell me what on earth that was about. Baelfire, whatever were you thinking bringing that man here?!"

"He's a physician, Emma," he said, tone of his voice betraying the pleading he knew he'd have to do. "You've been ill so long and-"

"I'm not! I've told you I'm on the mend - and the physician said the same. It was a waste for him to come out here - paid money we don't have -"

"I paid him in asparagus. We certainly have enough."

"-and it put us needlessly in danger."

"Emma, your illness puts you in danger, don't you see? If anything should happen to you, if I didn't get you treated because I was worried about getting caught… Better to have you healthy and at home than have to explain your death to your parents, to-" He stopped.

"Go on, say it."

His eyes fell to the ground as he shook his head.

"Bae, the fate of the kingdom does not rest on your actions. You've gotten this idea that if they catch me, you'll catch the blame while I go home and all is well - but all is not well, don't you see? You always, always forget the part where my happiness rests on having you by my side." She stepped towards him, smacking her hand lightly upside his head. "For such a brilliant boy, you can be so _stupid_ sometimes."

He hung his head further, only to feel her wrap her arms around him and pull him tightly to her. "I love you so much, but you infuriate me at times. Do you have any idea what a fright you gave me?"

"I'm sorry," he said, voice muffled by her hair. "I've just been so worried that-"

"Bae, I'm fine."

He sighed. His wife was both ill _and_ angry with him. He'd proven today that he could do nothing about the former, so he thought it best to resolve the latter to the best of his ability. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey," she replied, catching him under his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You could trust me?" He sighed again, but she continued. "I've told you I'm fine. A bit off - yes - but not in grave danger. This will pass, all illnesses do, and you have my word that if it worsens and the risk from the illness is greater than the risk from capture, I'll seek proper treatment. For now..." She shot him a smile, then leaned up to peck him on the cheek. "The best thing you can do is what you've been doing. Let me get my rest, make sure I'm fed and watered. Just - for goodness sakes - don't make it squirrel."

He chuckled, pleased to see her humor making a return. "All right, dear heart. There shall be no more squirrel."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N** \- Some of these scenes were amongst the first ones I wrote for this story - a very long time ago. Thrilled to share them with you now. Thanks as always for the reviews, favs and follows - and I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!

-DSB

* * *

The weeks passed, and - as the physician had predicted - Emma did indeed improve with time. Still, Bae couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was still off. Her appetite had returned, along with her strength, but her exhaustion remained. He was often up at dawn alone, where once she'd been his constant companion. Even once she arose for the day, it was but a few hours until she begged a nap. He never begrudged her - merely hoped his smile would hide his worry - and though he knew Emma was aware she hadn't quite regained her energy, he didn't think she quite realized the magnitude of her fatigue.

And as it was, this day was no different. He'd wandered to the market to get a few supplies, while Emma had taken trap duty. She'd been successful, judging from the hare lying on the table, but she hadn't gotten as far as preparing it. Instead she was curled in the bed, a blanket loosely draped across her torso, blonde hair splayed across half of the bed as she snored softly.

He took a minute to look at her; for all of his worry she was looking better than she had at the worst of it. She'd filled out a bit - still thin, but her cheeks were less hollow and her color had come back. Lincolnshire had been good to her, apart from the sickness. He remained concerned, but perhaps the physician was right. With time - and rest - she was steadily improving.

He left her to sleep on the bed, instead grabbing the roasting pan, the knife, and the rabbit - taking them outside to prepare their dinner. By the time he came back in, rabbit dressed in the roasting pan, he found Emma awake and watching him.

He set the pan over the fire and walked over to press a kiss to her forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"Indeed," she replied as she sat up, though her yawn betrayed her. "I feel so much better."

"It still worries me, Emma. You've been exhausted for weeks now, this isn't like you."

"I'm all right, Bae. You heard the physician, it's just a stubborn ailment. I don't even feel ill anymore... it's just that there's some days where I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for a week."

The phrase stopped him cold; somewhere in the recesses of his memory he recalled her saying the same thing once before, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was important. He heard her prattling on about her guilt over not contributing to the household, only half-listening as he tried to recall why the phrase was sticking in his mind. Then it hit him, his breath catching in his throat, and all at once the situation made sense. Emma's prolonged illness, her exhaustion, the physician's repeated inquiries about her romantic entanglements - it all came together in a moment, sudden understanding of what they'd been missing the entire time. He knelt in front of his wife, who was still seated on the edge of the bed, running on about trivial matters.

"-suppose I could have cleaned it before I lay down, but-"

"Emma… Emma!"

She squinted at the interruption. "Hmm?"

"I think I've figured it out, why you've been so unwell lately. Do you recall what you told me after your visit with Alexandra?"

Her squint deepened. "Alexandra?"

"Your friend - shortly after we were wed you visited with her… you spoke of how strange it was to see her as a wife and a mother."

"Yes, she'd talked about how exhausted she'd been and-" She stopped, mid-statement, and as her eyes grew wide Bae knew she'd come to the same conclusion as he had.

"Emma?"

"Hmmm?" she replied again, suddenly fixated on a point far off in the distance.

"Do you think…"

"Yes," she replied, slowly moving her gaze to meet his eyes. "It would make all the sense in the world."

He bit his lip, trying to read her expression, finding nothing there aside from shock and resignation. They'd never discussed children - not since their marriage had become a legitimate covenant - but he'd assumed they'd follow... some day. However, their present circumstances were far from ideal for that development, and the knowledge of that fact was written all over his wife's face.

He moved to sit next to her and took her hand, threading their fingers together even as she resumed her absentminded stare. "Emma?" he asked, his tone tentative.

"Hmm?" she replied distractedly, not shifting her focus.

"I love you."

Finally she looked at him, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile. "I know," she replied, moving her gaze to their intertwined fingers as she began to play with them. "I know."

She remained lost in her thoughts for several minutes, under the watchful eye of her husband, desperately curious to know what was going through her mind. But he knew there was no making her talk if she was not ready, so he simply offered her comfort by his presence. After a few minutes, she quietly reminded him to check on the rabbit and he moved to the kitchen, busying himself with the preparations for their dinner.

He continued his careful watch on her out of the corner of his eye as he checked the potatoes, but there was not much to watch for. She remained seated on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, as she had been since the conversation had begun. Her eyes remained fixed on a spot on the far wall, an unreadable expression on her face, as she digested the news. Once Bae was satisfied with the state of their meal, he plated their food and called her to the table.

Their dinner was a quiet one; periods of small talk about the crops and the weather were peppered in between niceties about the meal, but neither dared touch the elephant in the room. Emma seemed to find more purpose in pushing her potatoes and carrots absentmindedly around her plate than in eating them, but Bae couldn't blame her - not when he found himself doing much the same. It was difficult to find an appetite in the face of such a shock, and he hadn't the physical symptoms to deal with as well.

Mixed emotions would be an understatement; outside of the whirling thoughts about how adding a child would challenge everything in their precarious lifestyle, Bae was filled with relief that Emma's recent exhaustion and illnesses were summarily explained away. As night fell, he crawled into bed next to her, lazily wrapping an arm around her from behind. She'd said barely a word all night, and from someone who spoke her mind without hesitation, he found it unnerving. He was unaccustomed to being kept in the dark when it came to her feelings, and it was beginning to worry him. "Emma?" he whispered. "Are you okay?"

Still she did not answer, instead wriggling closer to him. His hand subconsciously made its way to her midsection. She moved her arm to cover his, providing him with at least a bit of reassurance as she entwined their fingers above the tiny life that they suddenly found themselves responsible for.

* * *

In an ironic twist, Emma didn't sleep much that night, tossing and turning despite her exhaustion. Bae would no sooner drift off than she would move again, rolling out of his embrace and then back in as she slept fitfully if at all. By morning's first light his exhaustion caused his patience to run out.

"Emma. Talk to me. _Please_."

She lay facing him, as much distance between them as the small bed would afford, and when she finally met his gaze the expression he found in her eyes could be described as nothing other than panic. "Emma..."

"We can't stay here, Bae. We have to go back. To my parents'."

"But what about..."

Sitting up, she shook her head. "We're in no place to raise a child here. Not when we've other alternatives. We're barely making it work here, you and me. There's no space, not enough food, the cabin is in ill repair... This was never meant to be a forever home."

"But Cora..."

"Cora is the least of our worries! What if something goes wrong in the delivery, out here with no one to help us? What if I cannot provide for the child? Even if there are no complications, we've barely enough with just two of us - how will we feed him on our meager supplies? What if I die giving birth and then you have to watch our child starve to death? There are too many possibilities, staying here. We need to give him his best chance, and that means going back."

She was on the verge of tears, of utter panic, and that was so uncharacteristic for her that Bae was unsure how to handle it.

"Shhh," he replied, moving to wrap her in his arms. "Emma, dearest, calm yourself. It will be all right."

"No Bae," she shook her head. "I'm not sure it will be." She had calmed some under his touch, much of her panic eroding away, but fright and sadness remained in her eyes. The lack of light there caused his heart to ache, and he was determined to bring it back, regardless of cost.

"If you want to go, we'll go," he replied, wrapping his arms a bit tighter and pressing a kiss into her hair. "But the journey is long. Are you sure you're well enough?"

"I don't _want_ to go," she replied. "Our time here has been a wonderful respite from the madness. But I don't feel we have a choice. We have to think of the child now," her voice caught in her throat a bit, "and we'll all be safer there than here."

"The journey..."

"-is better done now than some months from now, when maneuvering is harder. At least my body is still mostly my own," she said, the corners of her mouth showing a ghost of a smile.

He nodded. "Very well then. We can prepare today, set out tomorrow." She opened her mouth to object, but he shut her down before she'd even had a chance to begin. "You need to rest before we go. After your night last night, you're in no shape to begin such a trek."

The yawn she let out proved his point. He laid her back down in the bed, carefully covering her with the blanket, almost humorously threadbare from months of all-purpose use. "I'm going to go retrieve some berries for breakfast. You rest, I'll return in a bit."

* * *

Hours later, she awoke to find the promised bowl of berries sitting on the table, but no husband anywhere to be seen. She peered out the window and found him, kneeling in the garden and coated in dirt. Grabbing the bowl, she went out to greet him, and he flashed her a bright smile as she appeared around the corner.

"You're up!" he greeted her, and she nodded, popping a couple of berries in her mouth. "Feeling better?"

"Immensely improved," she said. "What can I help you with?"

"You can go back inside and continue to rest up," he replied, but it was no surprise when a sour face was her answer. "Fine. How about if you keep me company while I finish here? Trying to harvest a few things to take along on the trek."

"How long do you think it will take? The journey, I mean," she asked, taking a seat on a cut tree stump nearby.

He sat back on his heels, wiping his dirt-covered hands off on his pants, and looked up at her. "I'm not sure. It took us six or seven days to get here, if I recall, but that was from the cave. Your parents' is a day or so past there. Plus I'd imagine we'll be taking it a bit easy..." He trailed off, shooting her a meaningful smile. "I'm hoping for a few days shy of a fortnight."

She nodded, contemplating.

"You still want to go?" he asked gently.

"I still think it's the only real option we have."

"If we had a carriage, of course it would be much shorter. But traveling by foot..." He shook his head, resuming his careful pawing through the dirt. "There's no way to take enough provisions for the whole time, but we can carry supplements at least. I'm going to go rinse these in the stream," he continued, standing. "You'll wait here for me?"

She nodded again, enjoying the fresh air and early summer sun. Leaning back against the cabin, she shut her eyes and considered what returning home would actually mean. All she'd been able to focus on that morning had been the need to get her family to safety, into a more stable situation than their current one. Her parents' castle represented that for her. What she'd failed to consider was the piece where returning meant moving back under someone else's roof. She and Bae had been on their own for the entirety of their marriage, and being cut off from society had forced them to rely on each other like nothing else could have. How would that work with going back to parents who undoubtedly still saw her as a child? The past months had changed her in ways that extended beyond her relationship, and she wasn't sure if her doting parents would be ready to accept that. The fact remained that their options were slim, but even knowing that returning to the castle was their best option didn't mean it would be easy.

A voice interrupted her reverie. "Sleeping sitting up, princess? You know we do have a lovely bed inside." Emma had been so lost in her thoughts that she'd failed to hear Bae return, and she opened her eyes to greet him with a smile.

"I don't know that lovely is the word I would choose," she replied, and he chuckled. "No, I was just thinking about my parents, and how all that will work when we return. I'm not so much their little girl anymore."

"No," he shook his head, "No you're not." He offered her a hand and she stood, walking by his side into the house. "I don't know them well, but they clearly adore you. I'm sure you'll be able to come to an understanding."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You're taking quite the leap, willing to go live with practical strangers."

"No bigger than the leap you took coming to live with me."

She smiled, assuring him there was no malice in her words as she gently rebutted him. "That was under duress, Bae."

"I remember it well," he said with a chuckle. He stared at her for a moment as he set his parcel down on the table and wrapped her in his embrace. "I am so fortunate my crazy father chose you," he continued, voice heavy with emotion as he placed a kiss on the top of her head. Drawing back, he kept his hands on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. "You're my family now, so no, I don't consider it a leap to follow where you need to go. You've made some excellent points, Emma, and while I think we'd manage just fine if we remained here, it's far more important that you feel comfortable as things progress these next months. You're asking me to live in a palace with a benevolent king and queen as in-laws. It's hardly a torture chamber."

She laughed, pulling him down for a brief kiss before stepping away. "Thank you," she said. "For respecting me. That's a rare thing in this land."

"And you, dear heart, are a rare person, worthy of all that respect and more. This is a partnership, always has been, regardless of the antiquated customs of our land."

Even from across the room, he could see her blush as she ducked her chin down self-consciously. She'd begun sorting clothes, ostensibly to pack, and he shooed her back towards the bed. "Rest up, Emma," he implored.

She couldn't resist a cheeky reply. "What happened to the partnership?"

"Sometimes different roles are necessary. Right now, you have a job to do that I cannot, and that is to reserve your energy for the weeks ahead. I can pack, you rest," he replied.

"Fine." She let out on an annoyed sigh. "But let me see what it is you're bringing."

He raised an eyebrow, thoughts hearkening back to the similar conversation they had the very first time they ran - so similar in word yet so different in spirit. She clearly had the same thought, as her face broke into a teasing grin. "Maybe you'll listen to me this time."

"Half a year later and I've yet to be convinced lugging a weighty hairbrush was crucial to our survival." She rolled her eyes as he chuckled, beginning to sort through the pants she'd folded. "Do you think you can get away with three pair for the journey?" he asked, holding up a pair of tan ones.

"Don't take those," she said in reply, "They don't fit." Once again he raised an eyebrow. "I put them on the other day and could barely get them buttoned. I was baffled." She paused briefly, biting her lip as she sent him a small smile. "I'm not anymore."

He nodded and cast them aside, and she directed him towards a grey pair. "The ones we got from the market are a bit looser. Just take those and a couple of dresses, higher waists. I'll have new ones made once we arrive." Another nod as he took care to choose several dresses that he knew would be as unrestrictive as possible.

In the meantime, Emma curled on her side - too interested in observing Bae to fall asleep. She watched quietly as he moved about the cabin, piling this or that onto the table - then scowling and removing something that he seemed to find redundant. Once he finally became satisfied with the piles, she watched as everything dense or heavy got loaded into his satchel, leaving hers weighing barely half as much as his. Her annoyance was tempered with amusement and she held her tongue - there would be plenty of opportunities to remind him that pregnancy didn't make her an invalid. Perhaps most the amusing part was watching him load most of the food into her bag - no one could ever accuse her husband of not knowing his wife. It was only a shame that much of the food fit for traveling was squirrel jerky.

Bae fastened the clasp on the bag and turned back to check on her - clearly surprised to see her still awake. "No nap?"

She shrugged. "I just got up."

He screwed up his face, looking at her suspiciously. "I suppose."

"Thought I might go check the traps, get some water for dinner. Best if we can plan to be early to bed - get started first thing in the morning."

"Mm." He nodded in agreement. "Probably wise. You're well enough to-?"

"Bae," she interrupted, a loving tone to her voice despite the eye roll she sent his direction, "I checked the traps far sicker than this. Women have been having babies for thousands of years - we're not made of glass."

"I suppose," he said, with a sigh. "I just - I need to take care of you." A pause and a shuffling of his feet and then he mumbled, "_Both_ of you."

"You will, and you _do_. Just consider your duty now to trust that I know my limitations."

He sighed - reluctant to acquiesce, she knew - and nodded. As she rose from the bed and walked past him, he caught her wrist. "I love you," he said, pulling her down to press a kiss to her temple.

"And I you, dearest," she replied as she headed out the door. "Every overprotective bit."

* * *

"Pair of woodchucks and some goosefoot," Bae said with a chuckle. "Fine final night's dinner we're having."

Emma shrugged. "They say goosefoot is good for upset stomach - though I doubt that; for all that you fed me it never cured the queasiness."

"Perhaps because the queasiness stemmed from more than just a stomach bug, dear heart."

She stuck her tongue out at him, a reminder that she was far better suited to peasantry than princesshood. "You go on and tell yourself that."

"Just think… in a fortnight we'll be eating a royal feast, prepared by the finest chefs in the kingdom, goosefoot and squirrel and asparagus behind us."

Emma grinned. "I can hardly remember what real food tastes like - it's been trapping and foraging for so long now."

"Something tells me you'll waste no time reacquiring your tastes."

She laughed, and they chatted on about the niceties of civilization that they'd missed - solid walls, freshly washed clothes, baths not taken in a stream. Excited anticipation of these small luxuries at the forefront of their minds, they were almost able to banish the elephant in the room. Almost.

By the time they finished their meal, darkness was approaching outside. As Bae finished with storing the last of the scraps, Emma pulled on a fresh tunic and tucked herself away in bed. She let out a yawn and he looked over at her, trying to discern her state of mind. For all that they'd discussed the last day, they hadn't really _talked_ \- not beyond the logistical matters of their situation.

He'd some idea of his own feelings - the kernel of joy amongst the worry and apprehension - but none whatsoever of his wife's. She'd calmed significantly since the day prior - peace of mind gained in having a plan - but still, he'd no idea where her emotions sat beyond the immediate. He'd no interest in upsetting her, but found himself suddenly consumed with a need to know where her feelings lie.

And so, he dressed for bed and crawled in next to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he spoke.

"Emma, dearest," he approached the question gently, left hand stroking her hair as he spoke. "I know you're frightened - about our journey, about Cora, about the child - all with good reason. But I have to know, is there any portion of you that is... pleased with the turn of events?" His eyes searched hers, worry contained within them.

She sat up as she contemplated the question for a moment before offering a cautious answer. "I've been taken aback, the last day or so, of how protective I feel of this little being. When I think... if anything should happen to him..." She shuddered a bit. "I would gladly lay down my life for this child, who exists at the moment as little more than an assumption in our minds."

"That would be a bit counterproductive, my dear," he said, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Beyond that, though... fear and happiness are not really able to coexist, and as you say, I'm rather fearful at the moment... or worried, perhaps. But when I push the fright down, there is a spark of light there, and given time I have no doubt that this spark will grow to great happiness." She smiled. "If what you're really asking is if I am pleased about this child, yes, I am. I would have chosen different circumstances, without question... but a child... I was raised to see that as the greatest gift one can have. Beyond true love, of course."

He nodded, digesting her words, and she curled back into his arms, taking a turn at pressing a kiss to his cheek as she did so. "What of you, dearest? It's a big change, from unfettered bachelor to protector, husband and father in barely half a year."

He snorted. "_Unfettered_? You've met my father, haven't you?" She chuckled as he loosed a deep sigh into her hair, silent for a moment before he responded. "I just... he can't grow up the way we did. He has to know he's loved, for himself, not clung to out of fear or valued because he's the kingdom's heir. He should never feel his safety is bought with collateral harm to others - never feel that we value wealth, or power, or the kingdom above him. His life should be a reflection of all we have here in Lincolnshire - that nothing is insurmountable if we have each other."

Emma nodded, her hair tickling against his skin. "And you're - pleased? About his presence?"

He smiled. "As pleased as anyone could be to find his heart is held by someone no larger than an apricot."

She reached over and shoved him. "Can't you be serious for once?"

"I'm completely serious, dear heart. He's stolen half of what was once yours entirely - and though I've half a mind to apologize, I suspect you understand better than anyone."

"Indeed."

"As a boy, I loved my father wholly and completely. Until you, I never dreamed I could again - and until yesterday, I certainly couldn't imagine it could extend further. Now though..." He shook his head, burying yet another kiss in her hair. "I'll do right by you both, I swear it. I can't do to him what my father did to me."

She turned to catch his eye, fingers placed under his chin to fix his gaze to hers. "You won't," she said solemnly. "I know you, Baelfire, better than I've known anyone. You're a good man. You won't fail your son."

He nodded - the words steadying, if not as convincing as she would have liked. He pulled her close once more, feeling her breath light against his cheek as she drifted off to sleep. It didn't take long for him to follow - a safe and dreamless slumber as they rested up for the long journey home.


End file.
